Nature of the Beast One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut
by MiniKoontzy
Summary: Short, cute. OCs involved. Short little one-shot series of humorous scenarios and sweet encounters with the yard's resident stray feline. :) Thank WhatLiesBeyond for the thumbnail image. She did this a while ago and I can't believe I only now got around to using it.
1. Chapter 1: Coaxing a Calico

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut**

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Also inspired by the cute art piece by Evelynism: "Grim x Kitty."_

* * *

Charity for one enjoyed not rushing about like everyone else. Now, that didn't mean she wouldn't push her engine to the limit if someone got themselves hurt out in the field. Should anyone wind up with so much as a harmless mesh wound she would race to the ends of the planet to patch them up. That was why she was here in the first place. It was her duty as a medic to tend to the injured. Optimus had singled her out to help Bumblebee and his little rag-tag team for that very reason, and that was just what she was going to do. The spectral Prime had chosen her specifically to watch over them and the others who had come with her, to ensure they all made it out of this ghastly situation in one piece.

After all, if you were dealing with a possible catastrophe in the making, you might as well send an expert – and she _was_ labeled as one of the best healers in the Iacon Triage Facility by the medical board. Not that she ever bragged about it. She was just...good at what she did. To her it was no more complicated than that. Others may compliment her skills and even flower her with praise on occasion, but she would never in her life boast to anyone.

She smiled, continuing with the routine system diagnostic she'd been meaning to do since arrival here. What with one thing and another she simply hadn't been able to get around to doing it. She'd just finished maintaining her kit of medical equipment, and every instrument gleamed as beautifully as if they had just been crafted. The simple but important task at hand allowed her mind to wander – and wonder. She wondered whether or not her supervisor was cross with her for her sudden departure from the clinic. She hadn't exactly given him much explanation. She felt she hadn't had the time to explain everything to him. There had been a sense of urgency in Optimus's tone – urgency she now understood. A prison break involving some of the meanest, cruelest, most dangerous Decepticons on record was no small matter. Would Knockout have believed her even if she had taken the time to explain what was going on? It wasn't like one bumped into the spirit of a Prime every solar cycle, much less given a mission by one.

The gentle femme shuttered her optics with a barely audible little sigh. When she got back she would explain everything to Knockout. He was probably worried sick about her by now, what with her going off with vague words about "something coming up." She hadn't even given him a hesitant return date. Actually, it was better that she hadn't come to think of it. Giving him a return date and then not appearing on that date would only make him worry more. Much as she hated not being clear with him, being vague had been the only sensible thing to do. Any clarification would have lost her time; possibly it could've resulted in further complications.

" _Maiow!_ "

Her optics snapped back open. She looked around for a moment, puzzling over where the sound had come from and what had made the sound. Finally she caught a flash of movement by a row of old dirt bikes within fifteen feet of her station. Something slunk around behind them in a beautifully fluid motion – something small, tri-colored, and furry. The perpetrator soon ran out of cover, peeking out from behind a tire. Two hazel-green eyes stared back at her.

" _Maiow!_ "

Standing there partly concealed by the tire and frame of a purple dirt bike was a small calico cat, its fuzzy tail swishing around abruptly. Its head tilted to the side as it tried to interpret what it was looking at. Another mew escaped its vocal chords, this one faint and quite curious sounding – even a bit fearful sounding. She didn't know much about cats but going by its size it couldn't be more than six or seven months old. It was skinny too, and its fur wasn't in the best of conditions either.

Charity smiled. "Well, hello there. You must be the stray Denny mentioned lurked around here. Are you looking for something? You hungry?"

The calico shrank away, eyes widening as its ears pinned back.

She knelt down, lowering her voice and cooing softly: "No, no. It's alright. I'm not gonna hurt you. Come on. Come on out. It's okay."

Slowly but surely the little feline let itself be coaxed out of hiding and towards the much larger Cybertronian. Charity made sure not to make any abrupt movements. She knew doing so might startle the poor thing. Within an Earth minute or so it was within arm's reach of her, tail a-flick. Her spark ached in sympathy and pain at how scrawny it looked now, up close. But it was still energetic and curious. One good sign she supposed.

Without hurrying, the femme reached a single hand out. She saw the feline flinch back out of suspicion and fear, but was encouraged to note it didn't bolt altogether. Her hand thus paused until it was relaxed again. But rather than move it forward she let the calico inch towards her as if in slow motion, its nostrils dilating rapidly as it sniffed at her. After what felt like an eternity its little wet nose touched the very tip of her second digit. She was further encouraged when it rubbed up against the extended digit, and even more so when it let her rub its head in return. She smiled at how friendly it was.

"There you go. See? I'm not gonna hurt you."

She continued lightly rubbing its head, smiling when her tactile network picked up a very soft vibration: purring. The little calico kit was purring.

"Think you could stay here? I'll go see if I can find something for you to munch on."

The kit looked up, blinked slowly and still purring. Charity didn't know whether or not it understood her words, but it sure acted like it did. And so she rose, intent on finding either Denny or his son. One of the two must have an idea of what a developing cat's diet consisted of, because she hadn't the faintest notion. She was a Cybertronian medic – not a terrestrial vet.

* * *

Grimlock lay on his belly in T-Rex form, indulging himself in a light mid-day nap. It was a hot, languid afternoon and nothing was really going on.

Like all beast-formers in power down, his audials and olfactory sensors remained partially active to alert of incoming dangers. Well, maybe not "dangers" here per say. Not yet anyway. Decepticons rarely made it past the walls, and with Sentenza lurking both inside and outside the place, they were probably too skittish to come anywhere near right now. To be honest he was, too. Not of Sentenza herself of course – during the day she was actually pretty friendly, joking, and shamelessly teasing (her target being Sideswipe, which was hilarious all by itself; Sideswipe's obliviousness and eagerness to befriend her just added to the hilarity). All around pretty easy to get along with. No, it was her alter-ego, the feared and revered Nightdemon of Kaon, he was truly scared of. He considered himself lucky to no longer be connected with the 'Cons. If he had still been with them, he would probably be dead right about now.

Oh, he knew they'd get the courage up eventually to storm the place – 'Cons were dumb like that – but for now it was nice to not have Steeljaw or his pack knocking down the gates. And it was nice to be able to kick back once in a while. No 'Cons, no Nightdemon, no 'Bots trying to arrest him. Might as well make the most of his down time. Knowing their luck it wouldn't last.

After a few breems had gone by, his olfactory sensors detected a scent, forcing him fully online. He gave a slight, toothy grin on recognizing it: Charity. She was the sweetest, cutest little medic he'd ever seen, and her photoharp was a power in itself. He'd seen that first night its fantastical ability – lulling Sentenza into power down, removing the threat of the Nightdemon. To be able to tame a monster – just...just wow. And her medical skills were just as awesome. Optimus had seriously outdone himself by picking her. They didn't have a medic, did they? Alright then, here you go – have The Sweetest Thing on the Face of Cybertron. Will that work?

Ha! Slag yeah it worked!

But when the scent faded, it told him she was headed elsewhere in the yard. And so he went back to his nap, plonking his helm back onto the ground.

* * *

The Dinobot was woken once more some little time later. Instead of a scent this time around, it felt like something warm, soft, and furry had decided to perch on his wide snout. Every so often he felt something just as soft and furry swish back and forth. There was some sort of soft vibrating along with it, too. He did his best to ignore the senses for a while, but with each swish and the constant thrumming vibrations his systems re-activated one by one. Finally, his optics snapped open, blurring as they re-calibrated to the bright noonday sun. Something white, brown, and black, small, and furry was curled up on his snout. What in the name of the Primes was...?

Grimlock went stiff as a post once his vision cleared. It was the little stray calico cat he'd seen slinking around the salvage yard once or twice, being fed occasionally by Russell. And it was snoozing on his snout.

" _GAH!"_

 _"Mai-eerow!_ " yowled the feline, startled at the sudden noise and movement of its bed. Quickly it leapt off his snout and scrambled for the safety of the shelves, slinking beneath the lowest one.

Bumblebee, Sideswipe, and Frostbite came running in then. Smokescreen came soon thereafter. All stared at the rather unusual sight in the commons: the big, burly Dinobot standing stiff as a statue, blue optics wide as he stared at a shelf as if he'd seen a ghost, clawed hands held close to him like a frightened sparkling. A faint whimpering noise escaped his vocalizer – so faint that only the Canipid heard it. What in the world could scare Grimlock like this? Had Clampdown invaded the yard or something?

"Grim? Buddy? You okay?" Sideswipe asked, approaching. "What's wrong?"

Silently the Dinobot pointed towards the shelf with a shaking hand, rasping: "It's back. I-It touched me; it was _on_ me!"

The group focused their attention to where he was pointing, but at first could see nothing. Frostbite grew curious and trotted forward, following a rather unusual scent he'd detected once or twice before. Crouching down, he stuck his snout under the bottom shelf, sniffing rapidly. Annoyingly he couldn't fit his whole helm under so he could only go by smell, not sight. But that wasn't going to stop him. He trusted his olfactory sensors more than his optics.

He'd just about found the source when an aggravated growling and hiss met his audials. A wash of fear pheromones assaulted his olfactory sensors. Moments later what felt like a series of tiny needles slashed and swatted harmlessly against his metal hide. He drew back rapidly, yanking his snout out, shaking his helm and letting out a startled whine. _Something_ was definitely under there. Wasn't Cybertronian at all. It had sounded...it had sounded like a terrestrial feline. A terrified, slightly aggressive feline. Grimlock couldn't seriously be scared of a harmless domestic cat...could he?

[Cat.] Frostbite reported. [Scared. Won't come out. Think I accidentally made sure of that.]

Bumblebee cracked a grin as Smokescreen laughed. Strongarm smirked in mingled amusement and sympathy. Poor Grimlock. He really wasn't a Decepticon in any way. A 'Con would not be scared silly by a poor little stray cat. Actually, a 'Con probably would've stepped on it rather than scream like a horrified sparkling. An Autobot on the other hand? An Autobot very well might panic and scream. Their sparks were too sensitive for their own good sometimes. Grimlock's was obviously no exception. He seemed just as scared of the cat as it was of him.

Denny and Russell arrived on the scene at that point, Charity in tow. The older human held a dish with some raw, chopped up shrimp on it.

"What's going on here? What's up with Grimlock?" Denny demanded.

"Apparently Grim had an 'encounter' with the stray. Decided to take a nap on him or something. He reacted and now it's hiding over there – just under the bottom shelf." Bumblebee explained, still grinning broadly. "It's just brave and or scared enough that it had a swat at Frostbite. So good luck coaxing it out."

Charity gazed at the space under the shelf for a short time as the others attempted to calm the Dinobot down. If the poor thing was as scared as 'Bee made it out to be, it might not come out even for the food. They may just have to leave it there and hope that it ate some of it. But perhaps she could calm it down – coax it out of hiding? Maybe she could even allay Grimlock's fears a little by convincing him to hold it for a klik or two. The poor feline wasn't dangerous. It was just hungry, scared, and confused.

"Could you give me the plate? Maybe I can coax the poor thing out." she offered.

Denny held the small plate of shrimp up to her: "Give it your best shot, sweetheart. If you can manage it I'll officially say you're a miracle worker."

She took the plate and thus walked over to the shelf. Kneeling down, she very slowly extended her hand half-way beneath it, holding it out level and just an inch off the ground. She lowered her voice and crooned in the same gentle, soft-as-silk manner as before:

"Come on. Come on out. It's me. I've got something for you, just like I promised."

Nothing. The feline stayed where it was, brown-tipped ears ears back and hazel-green eyes round. A low, warning growl came from its throat.

"It's alright. Grim didn't mean to scare you. I think you scared him as much as he scared you. Come on out. You must be hungry."

For what felt like an eternity nothing happened. Just when she was about to give up hope and simply lay the plate down, she saw the little calico kitten inch forward. Its own famished hunger was finally overpowering its fear. While encouraging in one aspect, it made her spark twinge in pain. Only a truly starving animal would forego its fearful judgement entirely, and so swiftly. She wondered how long it had gone without food – a day? Two days? Three? And what about water? Water was a requirement for life here – like Energon was for her species.

"Russell? Could you go get a bowl of cold water, too?" she requested softly.

Russell nodded and darted off in the direction of the small diner that doubled as a kind of house for the two humans. Thus, she went back to her coaxing.

* * *

It took a while. To be precise it took about twenty Earth minutes. But in the end, Charity emerged the victor.

They had all watched in awe as the little calico finally slunk out of hiding, following the plate of food and bowl of water held in each hand. Once the kitten was out in the open she put the two dishes down and let it eat and drink its fill. She found the odd way it lapped the water amusing – tongue flicking out, curling up at the tip, then shooting back into its tiny mouth. It rather reminded her of a conveyor belt in a way.

Denny had gawked, wide-eyed and open-mouthed: "Oh. My. God. You actually did it."

And now, at that very moment, the kitten sat cleaning itself under Charity's protection, running its tongue over its mouth to remove any scraps and then delicately licking its paws. The femme medic had found that a little peculiar, as no food scraps had fallen on its paws. But it turned out it was doing so to wet the fur and use its paws to scrub its face clean. Hm. Very tidy little thing it was. Were all felines like this?

The moment it was done with that important task it set its sights on the medic. Giving a happy, almost grateful sounding mewl, it trotted up and coiled around her heel strut, purring strongly enough for her to hear it loud and clear now. Charity returned the friendly gesture, carefully scratching under its tiny chin. She must've hit a sweet spot somewhere there because the kitten started leaning heavily to one side, eyes half-closed in pleasure as its purrs grew louder still. She giggled when it lost its balance, tumbling over on one side.

"You're just the sweetest little fluff ball in the world, aren't you?" she cooed, dangling a digit over its head. "Yes you are, yes you are! Aw!"

Sideswipe couldn't help grinning as he watched the kitten eye the digit, pawing at it with teensy claws carefully retracted. A few times it swiped as if to bat the digit away. Honestly, how could Grimlock be scared to death of such an adorable little piece of fuzz like this? It was like an itty-bitty cotton ball with limbs. Even its mouthful of tiny white fangs was cute somehow. And those eyes? The cute level there was practically lethal.

Charity winced a little as that selfsame mouth of teensy fangs bit down on her digit while its tiny claws dug into the metal. But they just weren't sharp enough to pierce through. Very slowly she lifted the digit up and nearly laughed when the kitten absolutely refused to loosen its grip. She soon managed to gingerly detach it and let it tumble into her open palm.

"Come on now. I'm not _that_ tasty, am I?"

The kitten gave her an oddly intelligent look, pawing and mewling up at her almost like it was saying: " _Um...yeah? Now could you give me your finger back please?_ "

She gave in and lowered the digit back down. It didn't bite down nearly as hard this time, and it contented itself with gently chewing on the digit. She'd seen this once before with Predacon sparklings, especially Draconians, Canipids, and other such natural hunters when visiting them in their domain outside the main cities – teething. Some of its fangs must still be coming in, or perhaps its baby fangs were being replaced with their adults versions, so it was relieving the pressure it was feeling by chewing on something. And so she let it. It wasn't painful, just mildly uncomfortable.

"Here, Grim. You wanna pet her?"

"Her?" Smokescreen repeated. "It's a female?"

The medic nodded, saying that while not a vet she did know how to differentiate between male and female Earth animals. She asked Grimlock again and assuring him there was no need to be scared. Grimlock did not look convinced in the least and backed away a step.

"Grim, it's okay. If these teeth and claws can't pierce my armor I rather doubt they'll breach yours. Come on, just a little stroke on the head."

Still he refused to take one step closer to the little fuzz ball calmly nomming on her digit. Sideswipe sniggered.

"Seriously, pal. It's not like she's gonna _bite_." Bumblebee reassured. "She's too busy teething on poor Charity to do that."

While still looking far from convinced, Grimlock nodded and stomped forward. He was happy to note that the kitten barely took any notice of him until he was right there next to it. Even then the most it did was glance in his direction, looking disinterested in him. And so, slowly, optics shuttered, and with a slightly trembling hand, he reached out and lightly stroked one think, claw-like digit across the kitten's head. The Dinobot was acting as if the kitten was a live bomb or something and not a tiny, furry alien critter literally incapable of hurting a Cybertronian.

His optics clicked open at what he felt: the fur was soft, almost silky, and the same strange vibrations he'd felt earlier thrummed up and down his tactile net. He heard the vibrations as well, but the physical ones were still the strongest. They didn't sound like the ones Seekers tended to make when happy. They sounded more like they belonged to a Predacon, like a Panthron or something.

"What is that? The vibrations?"

"Purring. Means a cat is happy or relaxed." Russell said, smiling. "Might even mean she likes you."

Grimlock blinked in surprise. Like him? But he'd scared her earlier!

"Well, this might be her way of saying sorry for scaring _you_ to begin with." suggested Denny lightly. "Cats _are_ intelligent, you know."

The kitten seemed to finish with its teething routine, jerking its head away and running its tongue around its mouth as it gave a small yawn. Charity, seeing the shift in activity, put her down on the ground, though she seemed reluctant to do so. The little feline flicked its tail and turned as if sensing her hesitation to let it go wandering off.

" _Maiow._ _Meerow. Mrrrow!_ " said the kitten, as though in reassurance.

"Stay safe, girl. Don't go getting in any fights – no 'Cons especially. And if you need a place to stay – you're more than welcome to stay at my med bay. Oh! and if you want to use Grimlock as a bed again...just be sure to give him some forewarning, okay?" She gave her a scratch under the chin.

"Uh, Charity? You are talking to a _cat_ , not a person." Strongarm reminded her. "There is a very low chance it understa-"

" _Mrrrow!_ " the kitten replied firmly. She blinked her big, hazel-green eyes once, her tail a-flick.

Then, fluffy tail held high, the little stray feline trotted off, vanishing into the depths of the salvage yard.

 **Author's Note: I so wanna make this a teensy little one-shot series like Maria Shadow's "Two-Stroke." If I do, the chapters will not be very long as they're mainly just little glimpses into interactions between the stray and the members (new and old) of 'Bee's team. I'm still tryin' to figure out a name for her. Any suggestions are welcome! :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Tumbler

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut**

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Also inspired by the cute art piece by Evelynism: "Grim x Kitty."_

 _*I'm trying to figure out a time-scale for this little series. I've decided the first one takes place soon after Nightstrike's "episode" in the late afternoon after it. This one I think would take place soon after Vertebreak's episode. Also, kitty gets a name here! I think you guys'll like it. ;3_

* * *

 _CLANG! CLASH! WW-CHANG!_

"Come on, Sideswipe! Never lull in your attacks unless you have to! It gives the enemy time to recover! You let someone like Steeljaw recover, you die!"

Bumblebee watched from the sidelines as Counterforce sparred with the youngest member of his roster. He had seen plenty of good swashbucklers during the War – Optimus, Dreadwing, Wheeljack, and Megatron being the best he had seen personally. Arcee came at a close second with her arm blades, but that was more close-quarters fighting with knives than actual swordplay. The former scout had had some decent practice since the end of the War thanks to 'bots like Ultra Magnus, but to be fair he was more used to attacking from a distance or pulling off some martial arts moves at close range. But Counterforce? That mech was another story entirely. Each swing, each parry, each dodge was a dance move. He didn't fight with the same brutality Megatron or even Optimus had used when fighting one another. No movement was abrupt – every movement flowed together seamlessly, fluidly. He seemed to treat swordplay not as a survival mechanism but an art-form. Idly he had to wonder who had taught him. He was almost terrifyingly good. Had the Praxian somehow taught himself? Or had he been mentored by someone at Praxus's fifteenth precinct, or even someone not associated with the force?

He watched Sideswipe grow frustrated and lunge forward with his longsword. His Praxian sparring partner spun to the side while at the same time using his scimitar to dislodge the blade out of the Lamborghini's hand, kicking him in the back and sending him stumbling forward to nearly lose his footing. Counterforce swung the longsword up and around with a friendly smirk, motioning for him to try to get it back. Sideswipe took the challenge out of growing annoyance, charging at him with a growl. Bumblebee had to resist the urge to smack a hand to his faceplates. The kid had just fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book – incitement.

The yellow and black observer watched as Sideswipe paused abruptly in front of Counterforce, optics wide. He looked down to see the tip of his own longsword hovering just over his spark chamber while the golden scimitar hovered just above his neck cables. Sideswipe blinked once.

"Dead," said the Praxian.

His optics widened. Why was this mech in a police precinct? He belonged in a fencing arena.

Sideswipe groaned, grabbing his blade back.

"Never let your emotions do the talking in a fight. If someone is teasing or taunting you, ignore them. Otherwise you walk right into a death trap on _their_ terms. It _is_ possible to turn that tactic against them. Poke at them with a few verbal jabs. Insult them. Find their weak point. Once you do, then they rush into _your_ trap on _your_ terms. Even better if you can drive them into a rage. When someone's enraged, they don't think straight. They're more focused on revenge than on strategic planning."

"Uh, news flash, Goldie: I do that all the time!" Sideswipe deadpanned impatiently, arms crossing.

Counterforce merely shrugged. He couldn't exactly teach someone too prideful or too stubborn to be taught.

"Sideswipe, there's more to swordplay that just jabs and slashes. It's...it's a dance if you think about it. You can't dance properly if you don't know all the moves and motions; you'll wind up stepping on your own two pedes otherwise, or your partner'll wind up tripping you. There are some 'Cons on the Alchemor who're pretty decent sword fighters. Would you rather _I_ taught you with _no_ risk or learn on the job with the _very real_ risk of being _hurt_ or _killed_?"

Sideswipe looked on the verge of snorting and arguing back with another snappy phrase. But he blinked again and the fight went out of him. Counterforce grinned.

"Alright, then," he said, raising his scimitar. "Again. This time, _don't_ hesitate on your back-hand slash or angled swipe. Hesitating on those motions leaves you vulnerable to an enemy feint, lunge, and you're also at risk for ripostes. A well timed riposte can determine a duel's winner, and a well _aimed_ one can be deadly. You're limited to close range with that sword of yours. You have to make the most of that."

The red mech readied his longsword once more. Bumblebee sensed he was referee when they both looked at him expectantly. He let out a whistle as a signal, and they charged one another, exchanging blows. Sideswipe actually seemed to take into account the Praxian's advice, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't break through his defense. Every swing of his, high or low, light or heavy, was expertly blocked or parried. Sideswipe got a bad feeling when he saw his sparring partner smirk in between blows, circling him like a Felioid hunter ready to pounce. Counterforce halted a slash with the curved point of his scimitar and violently shoved back, kicking the red mech in his mid-section and stunning him. Before Sideswipe could fully recover, his pedes were swept out from under him. Unceremoniously, he fell to the dirt with a thud. He tried to rise, but a dulled silver and gold pede planted on his chassis. When the black spots dancing in his optics cleared, he saw Counterforce's scimitar a mere inch from his faceplates, the Praxian himself smiling amiably. Sideswipe could've screamed aloud his frustration.

Bumblebee couldn't resist laughing at the sight. Counterforce knew exactly how to manipulate Sideswipe's attacks against him, and Sideswipe obviously felt dumb as a post because of it.

"I think I know what you're problem is, Sideswipe."

"Oh, you mean _other_ than getting my aft _handed to me_ every single time I fight you? CF, this isn't even _fair_! It's like you know what I'm going to do before I do it and you've got my defeat all planned out before we even slagging _start_!" the red mech complained.

The Praxian helped him to his pedes, still smiling as Sideswipe brushed some of the fine brown dust of his chassis.

"No. You're problem is you're too impatient. You want the fight to end quickly, so you take risks in the hope they'll pay off. Your other problem is that your telegraph your movements too blatantly. Never do that. This is not about showing off and being flashy. This is survival."

"So...what exactly are you going to do to help that?" Sideswipe asked warily.

Counterforce smiled back, "Simple. We'll -"

" _Brrrraoiw!_ "

Three helms jerked to look for the familiar sound. Trotting down one of the isles, tail held high, was the female calico stray Charity had managed to befriend. All three mechs cracked grins as the calico headed right for them. She must've gotten curious about all the noise. Or maybe she was here to beg for treats from them – because _surely_ the giant aliens swinging sharp objects at each other had some treats tucked away somewhere. Heck, maybe she was just here for some attention, having failed to get it elsewhere. Out of three mechs, _one_ of them just _had_ be willing to entertain her for a bit, right?

Sideswipe frankly felt a little insulted when the feline swept right by him and went for Bumblebee, a torrent of bouncy meows escaping its toothy maw as it trotted to the yellow and black mech. It stood at his pedes for a while. Then:

" _Mrrow?_ " Her head tilted to the side. " _Maiow!_ "

"Heh. Hey there, fuzzball. You here for some attention?"

The former scout reached down and scritched the calico under the chin. Very quickly he found the sweet spot Charity had found, resulting in her tumbling onto her side, purring so loudly that the vibrations arced up and down his tactile network. Her hazel-green eyes were almost shut, and she looked half-drunk from pleasure. Bumblebee pulled his hand back after an Earth minute or so. This harmless act resulted in the feline looking up at him with what could only be described as an annoyed or insulted look in her hazel-green eyes.

"Oh, come on. I can't pet you _all_ day. I got other things to do!" he argued. "Like making sure Sideswipe doesn't cause Counterforce any trouble!"

"Hey!" Sideswipe snapped. "Gimme _one_ good reason I'd cause trouble to the guy who can beat me into the ground with both hands behind his back!"

Still the calico looked insulted. Then, as if coming to a decision, she got up to her paws and trotted off with one final mewl back in their direction, tail flicking as if in a sassy snap.

Counterforce grinned. "That cat's got an attitude. I pity the poor spark she goes for next."

* * *

" _Maiow!_ "

Fix-It jumped at the sound with a little shriek of a yelp. Looking to the side, he saw the salvage yard's resident stray feline sitting on the edge of his command console, tail swishing. He waved a clasp-like hand in her direction in an effort to make her go away.

"Shoo! Go on! I'm busy!"

The feline merely tilted her head to the side and watched the hand with sudden interest. " _Mrrow?_ " She crouched down, pupils dilating as she watched the hand go back to typing. Fix-It saw the shift in behavior. He'd seen enough Predacon sparklings on Cybertron to know what _that_ look meant. She wanted to play.

"No! No, no! My hand is _not_ a toy! Now shoo!"

He yelped when the feline slunk in his direction in near total silence. He put up a hand in warning, eyeing her suspiciously. She seemed to get the message and paused, one paw still in the air. Her pupils were still enlarged, and her tail flicked playfully. Then he went back to work, ignoring the furry statue currently staring him down with eyes, in his opinion, that seemed far too big for its tiny head.

Some brief motion in the corner of his optics made him turn to find the cat a few paces closer than before. But she'd stopped the instant he turned to look. Suddenly feeling a little wary, he turned his attention back to his display much slower than the first time. The cat, he decided, was definitely screwing with him. It got him wondering if cats actually had a sense of humor. He looked again when the same brief motion occurred, and the cat was even closer. Seemed that each time he looked to check on her, she'd freeze to make him think she wasn't coming at him. He turned away one last time, even slower. He did not trust this thing. It was up to something, he just knew it...

For a minute or two he worked in peace. He thought the cat had left. He turned to check...

"Ah!"

The cat was practically right in his faceplates now, her big black pupils nearly engulfing her hazel-green eyes.

" _Brrraiow!_ "

She batted at his helm crest lightly, claws sheathed. Despite his short fright and previous annoyed suspicion, Fix-It couldn't help smiling. Well, he might as well give her what she wanted. He had a klik or two to spare while the Alchemor continued with its scans.

"Oh, alright. Fine."

He extended a hand and moved the digits around, earning a happy-sounded mewl and more playful, claw-less bats. When the console made a noise to signal the scan had completed, he scritched the cat under the chin. Almost right away (and by accident) he hit the sweet spot and the calico tumbled over, purring happily. He then left it and re-focused on the display. He heard a faint thud. When he looked back to where the cat had been, the spot was empty. He looked for the furry, tri-colored critter but she seemed to have disappeared.

"Hm."

Fix-It resumed his tasks.

* * *

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty!"

Russell wandered the isles looking for the calico. In one hand he held a bowl of cat food in the hopes of coaxing her out of hiding with the smell. He wanted to make sure she put on some pounds before his dad took her to the vet for a check-up and the usual procedure of spaying. One cat was tricky enough, and his dad probably wouldn't be too happy having a dozen more fur-balls running around.

Counterforce and Sideswipe passed by him as he entered the commons area, the gold and silver mech doing his best to keep Sideswipe from snapping at him from what sounded like irritation and impatience. Where exactly he was headed with him he had no idea, but Sideswipe – per the usual – wasn't too keen on listening to one of the "authority figures" of the bunch. But since he _wasn't_ snapping at him (he was merely grumbling), Russell took that as a sign that Counterforce was slowly but surely getting to him. 'Bee had tried and failed previously to get Sideswipe to slow down. Maybe Counterforce would be the one to get through. Sometimes you had to slow down a little or risk running into a wall at two hundred miles per hour.

When he entered the commons area, he found the area was empty aside from Fix-It at his command center.

"Hey, Fix-It! Have you seen the cat anywhere?" he called out.

The mini-con peered at him from around the holo-display.

"She was here regency – frequency –"

"Recently?" Russell finished.

Fix-It looked thankful for the interjection, "Yes. The cat _was_ here a few minutes ago (looking for attention I might add) but she left and I haven't seen her since. Probably went off to bother someone else."

Russell sighed in defeat and started to walk off. Then:

" _Maiow!_ "

Peering at him from between two shelf-bound antiques was the vanishing feline herself.

He held the bowl up to her, tapping the bottom with one finger. "Hey there, kitty-cat. I brought you something to eat. No shrimp this time, though. Sorry."

The cat obediently jumped off her perch and trotted over as he set the bowl down. Almost right away she started chowing down. Satisfied Russell walked off, hands disappearing into his sweatshirt pockets. When he came to check a few minutes later, the cat had disappeared again.

* * *

" _Merrow?_ "

Once more the familiar sound filled the commons – and the audials of Bumblebee. This time, two familiar faces were there to hear it as well: Smokescreen and Grimlock. Each of the three was busy discussing Windstorm's progress with the pods and Decepticon Hunters, plus numerous other tasks the engineer put himself to in order to stay busy. Russell was quick to join them whilst passing down one of the isles, dropping the smartphone he had been fiddling with in favor of a potentially playful calico.

The feline herself trotted over to the gathering from another isle, meowing as she went.

"Hey! Looks who's back! What, you come back to mooch more attention off me?" joked Bumblebee.

Smokescreen was personally pleased to note that Grimlock didn't scream, flinch, or react in any way negatively when the cat went after him, brushing up against his pedes and purring up a storm. Frankly it was all the Dinobot could do not to snicker at the tickling sensation arcing up and down his tactile net. It felt like a billion tiny engines growling against his mesh, and the cat's soft fur seemed to somehow amplify the sensation.

"Aw. See? She likes you, Grim." Russell smiled.

"It tickles! Make it stop!" Grimlock pleaded, holding in his snickering as best he could.

Russell clicked his tongue and thus earned the cat's attention. She trotted over, bumping her head against Russell's outstretched hand. He reached under and scratched her under the chin. It took a second, but he quickly found the cat's sweet spot, and she tumbled over just like when Charity had done so, purring loudly. He realized something.

"Y'know, if she's gonna be a regular around here from now on, I think we oughta give her a name. You guys got any suggestions?" He looked up at the three aliens.

"Any ideas, Smoke?" Bumblebee asked.

"...Are you mocking me for the whole UniMeg thing?" asked the Elite Guardsmech suspiciously.

"No. I'm actually asking you. I got nothin'. You're the creative one who thinks ten light-years outside the box."

Smokescreen looked back at the loudly purring cat on the ground. Every single time the cat had appeared, she had been begging for attention. Every single time she'd been given attention, the attention-giver had scratched her under her chin – and every single time they'd found her sweet spot and the cat had happily tumbled over in pleasure, purring as loud as a muffled high-performance engine. Hmm...

"How about...Tumbler?"

"What, like the website?" Russell laughed. That was a weird decision to base a name off. Where'd he get that from?

"No. Like, every single time someone pets her in that spot under her chin she 'tumbles over' in response. So – Tumbler."

The cat looked up at him from her petting to look the blue and yellow mech straight in the optics.

" _Brrraoiw! Merrow! Maiow!_ " she said. She got up and brushed around his heel struts, meowing and purring.

"I think she likes it." Grimlock grinned.

"Tumbler it is then." Bumblebee agreed, grinning alongside him.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yep! The kitty's name is Tumbler! :D**


	3. Chapter 3: Nuzzling and Neck Warmers

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut**

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Takes place shortly before and after Quillfire and Springload's "episode." Let's see if Tumbler can twist Drift and his mini-cons round her tail, shall we? x3_

* * *

Tumbler did not know who the New Friends were. The New Friends looked very different from the other Friends. She did not like the largest New Friend. That New Friend was Strict Friend, and he had not seemed to like her Friends very much. She had done her best to avoid that one. The smaller ones she liked best. They were not as big as Strict Friend and acted much nicer. She had not approached them yet thanks to the loud noise and Strange Thing that had fallen into her Friends' territory when one of the Small Friends had first come. That had scared her. When the second Small Friend and Strict Friend had come later, she had become even more scared. When two Loud Noises and two Big Things had thundered out of the territory, that had been the last straw. She had decided hiding was her safest option.

And so she had hidden deep inside her Friends' territory, huddled between two Big Strange Things. There had been too much going on – too many Big Things walking and too many strange sounds. It was scary. It did not feel safe. She would not come out until the noise died down or until one of her Friends told her it was okay. Or brought her some food. Food was nice. And rubs and pettings often came with it. Maybe both? That would be even better.

It had gotten a little better when her Friends, Strict Friend, and Small Friends had gone out hunting. Green Friend had stayed behind. The two tiniest Friends stayed, too. They did not go out all the time with her big Friends. But she had been too scared to come out. What if Strict Friend came back and saw her? What if more Big Things got out?

As nice as free food and chin rubs were, Tumbler did not move the entire time her Friends were gone. She did see Black Friend return very late in the day and talk with Green Friend before she walked off. She had seemed...sad. When evening had come along later, noises had met her tiny ears and came her way, the source briefly coming into her sight through the isles of Things. Her Friends had returned from hunting with two Big Things that they stuck in two Big Strange Things, cold spewing from the inside for a brief moment before their clear mouths hissed shut again. She scooched further into hiding place. She did not like this. Come to think of it, this wasn't the best Safe Place if she wanted to avoid the risk of Big Things stomping around.

She shifted, got up, and slunk out of hiding. She would find Green Friend. Green Friend would pet her and say some nice things to her she couldn't understand very well but that she felt were nice. And then everything would be good again. Yes. Green Friend was Best Friend. She would make everything better.

And maybe she would get some food in the deal. She was hungry.

* * *

 _Eight hours earlier..._

Jetstorm took Bumblebee's and Denny's advice to get a little more familiar with the salvage yard. If he was staying, best to get familiar with the home front. The last time he'd been here he hadn't exactly had the chance to wander. And so he passed through the isles, methodically noting down the layout for future reference and what might be used to better defend the place. He was hesitant to go tampering with any of Denny's things...but some of the items could be salvaged and re-purposed.

" _Maiow!_ "

The little mini-con warrior spun, drawing his nunchucks. What had that been? His optics flicked around to try to determine the source of the noise – up, down, left, right – but to start with he saw nothing. Had he imagined the odd noise? Then, a flicker of movement and color in one of the shelves above him. He followed the movement until it became visible: It was some odd little fuzzy creature colored white, caramel, and black. It had four limbs and a very fuzzy tail and two large audial receptors tipped in a darker brown color. Two hazel-green optical inputs peered down at him curiously as its tail swished side to side. Tiny claws on its front limbs gripped into the shelf for stability.

" _Mrrrow?_ " said the creature. Head tilted, its left ear twitched while the other swiveled about in search of another sound.

Jetstorm debated attacking. He did not know what this creature was or whether or not it meant him or the salvage yard's occupants any harm. Some Earth animals were said to be very aggressive and even work in Canipid-like packs. There might be more of them around somewhere. So he did the next best thing. He opened a comm. link to Russell's communicator and shouted:

"Intruder! Commander Russell, there's an intruder on the premises!"

He yelped just as he disconnected the link, for the strange animal had leapt down from its perch and now stood across from him. It stood there for a while observing him. And then it started walking towards him, making one or two more of the odd noises it made.

Not knowing what else to do, the mini-con ran for it. He did not look back to see the creature calmly trotting after him. He did, however, hear it keep making the noises.

* * *

Bumblebee was just about to call Jetstorm back and demand further clarification when the little mini-con warrior bolted into the commons with wide, terrified blue optics. He stared, bewildered, as he made a bee line for Sideswipe, Strongarm, and Grimlock, sheltering behind the latter's massive pedes. One hand gripped his nunchucks, but the larger yellow and black mech noted that he seemed reluctant to use them.

Up on the command console, Fix-It and Russell gave the odd sight a peculiar look. Then Fix-It checked the Alchemor's sensor arrays. No Decepticons he reported. But what exactly was going on here, then? If no Decepticons had intruded, what in the Allspark was Jetstorm so scared of that he'd run for cover? He wasn't picking up any Cybertronian life signs. It wasn't...No. It couldn't be Sentenza. She was out in the field, and it was broad daylight out. There was no way the Nightdemon was the "intruder." So what the Pit was the problem?

"Uh...Jetstorm? What seems to be the issue, pal?" Smokescreen asked from the side lines. "What's going on?"

"There's an intruder on the premises, sir! It's –"

" _Brrraaoiw!_ " came a familiar noise.

From down one of the isles trotted the playful Tumbler, tail erect and hazel-green eyes insulted yet friendly. She paused at the edge of the gathering of Autobots, electing to sit. She looked up from 'Bee to Smokescreen to Sideswipe to Grimlock to Strongarm and then to Fix-It for some kind of explanation as to why a new friend (who might possibly have had free food on him) had just run screaming from her as if she were the Unmaker made manifest. Was the new friend playing with her or not?

"It's right there!" Jetstorm cried, pointing.

Sideswipe couldn't help it. He howled in wild hilarity and practically collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard he was nearly crying. Smokescreen and Bumblebee started laughing themselves while Grimlock sniggered loudly. Not even Strongarm could suppress a flicker of a smirk from cross her lip-plates.

"That's not an intruder, Jetstorm." Russell explained with a wide grin and a short laugh. "That's just Tumbler. She's a stray cat that hangs out around here. She's a pet, not a monster. She's not even full grown yet – she's just a kitten still. Vet said she was seven months old. Totally harmless. I think she just wants a chance to check you out. You're the new guy."

Tumbler affirmed the statement with a cheerful meow and a blink of her big hazel-green eyes. She got up and trotted over to the gathering, brushing up against Strongarm's heel struts whilst purring softly before contiuing on towards the newcomer mini-con. Jetstorm shied back, still tense as if expecting an attack. They said it was a pet, but he still didn't trust Earth animals very well. Reports in the Iacon Hall of Records said that if an Earth animal felt threatened they could go from docile to hostile in an astrosecond.

"Just hold your hand out and let her sniff you." Bumblebee suggested smilingly. "Trust me, pal. She's _not_ gonna bite. I mean, even if she did there'd be no damage done to you. She might end up hurting herself if she tried."

Jetstorm complied. He stored his weapon away and then carefully held his right hand out to the approaching feline. Tumbler slowed her pace but kept up with the approach nonetheless, not feeling intimidated in the least. The mini-con noted the two tiny olfactory sensors on her face were opening and closing much more rapidly all of a sudden. He did his best not to flinch when the cat got within reach of him and hesitantly stuck her neck out to sniff at his outstretched limb. He also did his best not to flinch when he felt a little touch of wet coldness on the tip of his second digit. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of sensations. A little icky actually.

That opinion of his, of course, didn't last very long.

He didn't stop himself from smiling when Tumbler offered him a cheerful " _Mrrrow!_ " and brushed up against him as she walked around him. He even let slip a little laugh when he felt the odd but powerful vibrations the cat was creating from somewhere deep in its throat, the sensation reverberating throughout its tiny body like a the smallest of engines. He put his hand down against his side and laughed again when Tumbler unexpectedly bumped her head against his palm when she came around from behind, then continued on with her brushing.

Smokescreen grinned at the adorable sight. Gah! If only Sentenza were here right now to benefit from her, but the Seeker could be a state away by now in her hunt for convicts. Jack had once told him that pets like cats and dogs had a rather funny but hugely beneficial effect on humans – apparently just petting them was soothing and lowered their heart rate if the person was stressed or agitated, and worked wonders on people with depression. Maybe when the Seeker returned she could make use of that effect.

"See? That's all she wanted. Just wanted to make sure you were okay and not, y'know, dangerous or anything. Honestly I think she could've figured that out just from the little hilarious fact you _freaking ran from her_ , but whatever. I'm not one to judge on that 'cause, y'know. Zodiac. I think this cat's braver than she is...Aaand she might kill me for saying that..."

The mini-con warrior indulged the friendly feline with some gentle strokes on the head, earning more purring in the process. Tumbler's fur was very soft and she acted very friendly. Something about the creature was...calming now rather than frightening. A smile formed. His thought processes not even a breem ago made him laugh internally. This creature was utterly harmless. Why he'd thought it was a dangerous wild animal or intruder he didn't know. She was...sweet.

"You said her name was Tumbler? Why was she named that?" he asked.

Russell smirked as Sideswipe knelt down and motioned to get Tumbler's attention. She trotted over away with a mewl of happiness at getting more attention, rubbing up against his two extended digits. The red mech indulged her with some head rubs.

"Watch this, shorty." sniggered Grimlock. "You're gonna laugh. So hard."

"Do it, Sides! Do it!" Russell cackled almost evilly.

Sideswipe winked over at the boy with a cackle of his own. His two digits searched around the cat's chin for the soft spot for a few kliks, earning purrs louder than any previous ones the mini-con had heard and causing Tumbler's eyes to shut halfway. The red mech quickly found the cat's soft spot soon after, resulting in her sticking to her namesake and tumbling onto one side. Sideswipe, Russell, and Grimlock all snickered as Tumbler's purrs hit peak volume as he kept up with the scritching and general attention giving.

"You like that, don't you? You little attention magnet." said Sideswipe to Tumbler.

Tumbler's response was to let out a purring meow that sounded an awful lot like she was saying: " _Hell yeah, bro! Gimme more! More, more, more!_ "

Jetstorm, while he didn't laugh as much as Grimlock had said he would, smiled broadly and gave a short laugh.

"So that's why she's named Tumbler." he observed lightly. "Fitting."

* * *

 _Later..._

Tumbler did not often see Black Friend. Black Friend liked to be away from the others when in her Friends' territory or else was out hunting. But she had seen her strange Flying Shape return to the territory before the Big Light in the skies went out. She had watched her speak with Green Friend, had watched her sink down to the ground. And Tumbler had felt her sadness as Black Friend had gone over to her Safe Place and huddled within it.

Now, outside the walls, she watched Green Friend join her and comfort her, then leave to investigate the return of her Friends. Even from her place within the bushes she could still sense Black Friend's sadness. So she slunk out of hiding and over to Black Friend, mewling softly in greeting. Tumbler wanted to help Black Friend, but she didn't know how to. Green Friend she knew could help – she had seen her help before. But maybe Tumbler could offer her own kind of help just by being there until Green Friend returned.

Black Friend did not seem to notice her, so she rubbed up against her big feet to see if that might do something. She purred happily when it did – Black Friend looked down at her and offered some strokes on her head. But then her big yellow eyes lost their focus on her and went back out towards the dark woods. She brushed against her a few more times to see if she might do it again. It had seemed to help a bit, make her a little less sad. But she didn't. Black Friend acted as if she wasn't even there any more.

Tumbler's sharp ears picked up the distinct light sounds of Green Friend returning. And so she left to let Green Friend help, leaping up onto the wall and jumping down into the yard to continue her nightly Searching. That was one good thing about her big Friends – they didn't seem to need sleep in the same way that her tiny Friends needed it. That meant more chances to get attention and food.

When she jumped back up onto the Tall Border and passed around one edge of it, she spotted the orange-gold body of Strict Friend leaning against the Tall Border, blue eyes watching the dark woods. Small Friends she did not see anywhere. She wanted to skirt around Strict Friend altogether, but maybe she could turn him into a Friend like the others. Small Friends had liked her. Why couldn't Strict Friend like her, too?

" _Mrrrow?_ " she said.

Strict Friend turned swiftly to see her. He looked at her for a time in silence, then raised a hand and gently waved it at her, making her back away. He did not look or seem very happy to see her. Defeated for the time being, Tumbler issued another mewl and trotted off.

Maybe next time.

* * *

Windstorm was sitting against the wall, optics shuttered. Even in power down his worn out processor still bothered him with a dull ache, making him shift every so often to try and counteract it.

He had never had to use his "data sight" under such strenuous circumstances before. Most of the time he used it when in calm environments working on star-ships in the Academy's repair bay or, a little less often, at the docking ports. The latter was a little louder due to the increased numbers of 'bots but it wasn't exactly strenuous or life-threatening in any way, just noisier. He'd never had to use it while stressed before, and certainly not under the near constant risk of being shot at and/or run over by the dangerous fusion-powered tank that "Dumb and Dumber" (as Zodiac had taken to calling them during their repair on another pod) had stolen.

Oh, sure they'd won the fight in the end thanks to the data sight – but now Windstorm knew not to use it under such circumstances if it could be avoided. Because apparently it had a nasty side effect when used under great stress:

Migraines. Horrible, splitting migraines. Why did it have to be _migraines_?

It wasn't life-threatening in any way though – just very, very painful. Charity had offered some pain killers a few breems ago after stopping by, having sensed something was wrong, and thank the Allspark they were working. It dulled the pain well and stimulated his power down protocols. Primus bless that femme – she really had come prepared for any medical problems that might arise. She really was a healer through and through. He just wished the stuff actually knocked him out into deep power down instead of just making him drowsy. Close as true recharge was, it was eluding him quite effectively.

The engineer shifted again, trying to ignore the dull ache at the back of his helm.

" _Maiow_? _Brrrow?_ "

One lightning yellow optic opened part way to see Tumbler sitting at his pedes, looking up at him with her big hazel-green eyes, head titled to the side. She blinked one of her strange, slow blinks. Then, with another mew, she leapt up onto his pede and carefully walked up his leg. She stopped on his upper thigh as if asking permission to get closer.

" _Mrrow?_ " she asked, blinking her slow blink.

Windstorm couldn't help smiling at the feline's obvious intelligence. He gently scooped the cat up in his hands, simply holding her for a moment as his tactile net fed him sensory input of the cat's temperature and heart rate. Something about that steady double rhythm was remarkably soothing. He gave a scratch on the head with a single digit. Then, shifting himself somewhat into a more comfortable position, he put the cat on his left shoulder. Very quickly Tumbler curled up and began to purr. And so he tried once again to slip into power down.

It worked.

* * *

Morning. The sun was starting to rise over the horizon. And with it, the threat of the Nightdemon was once more brought down to a minimal risk.

Fix-It was busy at his command console flipping through the readings the Alchemor had taken just before its engine had failed. While working on another pod the other evening, Windstorm had brought up a very good point, one he had shared with Russell on the way to securing Quillfire, Springload, and their stolen tank: could someone have somehow, through some means, sabotaged the prison ship? Had someone within done something in advance to ensure this would happen? Or had it been attacked by an outside force?

So far though, the ship's final readings were not showing any anomalies that would account for catastrophic engine failure and a total system crash. The most he was getting was that a particularly strong solar flare had occurred around that time that might have knocked out some terrestrial satellites – but not an advanced, well-shielded, maximum security Cybertronian prison ship. Only thing that could knock such a hefty vessel out of commission was a gamma ray burst, and none had apparently gone off – at least not close enough to cause significant damage. A tingle in the shielding perhaps; not total system failure. Supernovas were another known ship killer, but out here in the galactic arms they were not common, and you had to be within a few light years of the exploding star – within the blast radius – for it to do anything.

That information had come courtesy of Zodiac last night. The little astronomer was proving to be quite the information reservoir concerning cosmic phenomena and the effects they had, apparently having been the victim of a GRB herself once.

' _Then what? What happened? What went wrong? Ships don't just fail like that out of nowhere! There has to be a reason!_ '

He was drawn out of his frustrated, confused thoughts when a tiny red, orange, gold and black mini-con with a naginata strapped to his back walked by.

"Ah, Slipstream? Could you go wake up Windstorm for me? He's over by the west fall – gall – _wall_. I need his assistance getting Fracture's salvaged groundbridge operational. Plus a few other projects we need to get started, worked on, or completed. I believe he is working on something for Russell and Denny as well."

Slipstream nodded and said he would. He walked off in the direction of the west wall, leaving Fix-It to glower at his holo-display as if debating performing reconstructive surgery on it or pounding it with a jackhammer and ten tons of explosives to get it to cooperate. On turning and noting that expression, the mini-con warrior quickened his pace. He had the bad feeling Fix-It might go through with something like that if he didn't get back soon.

* * *

What he found waiting for him at the location would have been enough to make even Master Drift smile. It certainly made Slipstream smile. And he was seriously considering going to get his brother and Russell to take some holo-stills of it. As it was, he went through with the first impulse, calling Jetstorm over to him via private comm. link. When he got there he, too, smiled.

The Crystal City mech sat with his backstrut against the wall, doorwings limp and helm gently lolled over his left shoulder. Curled against his neck cables up on that same left shoulder, soundly asleep but still purring faintly...was Tumbler. The cat didn't seem to mind the engineer partially using her as a fluffy little neck warmer. Both looked peacefully content with the present arrangement. Jetstorm had told him about the friendly feline but he had never laid optics on it till now. Primus had it been worth the wait. This was the sweetest little Earth animal he had ever seen. Tumbler was like a friendly, fluffy little cloud.

The cat's sensitive ears did pick up the two mini-cons' presences after a moment or two had gone by. Her ears pricked up and focused on them even before her eyes opened. One hazel-green eye peeped open to peer at them before closing again. They both watched Tumbler cozy up even closer to his neck cables almost in protest. She didn't seem to want to get up or move from her spot. Obviously Windstorm's neck and shoulder were much comfier than they looked.

"...Should we wake them?" Slipstream asked his brother in a soft whisper. It seemed almost criminal to disturb them at such an early hour. He'd also read in the Hall that Felioids on Cybertron tended to get a bit crotchety if you made them do something they didn't want to do. He had to assume Earth cats were the same, domesticated or not.

"Fix-It did tell you he needs him to finish the groundbridge." Jetstorm admitted. "And he does like to stay busy. But I think we should ask Tumbler's permission first."

Slipstream concurred and turned his attention to the semi-slumbering feline. "Tumbler, is there any chance Fix-It could borrow Windstorm from you?"

Tumbler's eyes opened fully as she woke up, giving a toothy yawn. She looked at them for a klik as if insulted at the very idea of losing her heated, living metal bed for any reason. Slipstream and Jetstorm felt that they may have lost the argument. Even if she couldn't speak she seemed to be well aware of what they were asking and didn't like it. But then:

" _Merrrow._ " said Tumbler.

She stretched her sleep-ridden limbs and then calmly jumped off Windstorm's shoulder and onto his leg before jumping off entirely. A hiss of Windstorm's air cycling systems told them the sudden activity on his tactile network had started the onlining protocols. She brushed up against the limp hand at his side to speed the process along. An impulse? Or had she done it on purpose knowing more contact would wake him faster?

The fuzzy feline spoke again, looking right at them: " _Mrrrow. Brraiow!_ "

And Tumbler walked off as Windstorm slowly awoke.

* * *

 **Oh, don't worry. Tumbler will get to Drift soon enough... ;P**


	4. Chapter 4: Feel Down? Have a Cat!

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut**

Chapter 4

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Also inspired by the cute art piece by Evelynism: "Grim x Kitty."_

 _*Takes placing during the 3-day lull after "In Too Deep"_

* * *

" _Maiow!_ "

"Sen! Sen'za, where are you?" a hoarse voice hollered. Heavy pedefalls thundered along with it. Lighter ones accompanied them, quicker and less spaced out.

" _Maiow!_ "

Grimlock and Frostbite were busy following Tumbler's endless mewling. Beside him, the White Hound let out a low whine. His snout was to the ground and he was cycling air into his olfactory sensors in rapid bursts. His audials were swiveling around like crazy, trying to pick up even a faint sound of their target. His snout lifted up to glance at the burly Dinobot. He looked worried. Another whine escaped his vocalizer.

"Nothing?" he demanded.

[Too much.] Frostbite told him coldly. [Her scent is everywhere. Recent. Overlapping. Been moving around a lot. Trying to avoid us. Hasn't left the yard scared. Praxian's overlap hers. Been keeping an optic on her. No clue how he manages to scent her; she's not talking. City-dwellers are scent-blind compared to us.]

The Dinobot tried to scent her out himself. He was instantly bombarded by so many scents both familiar and not it sent his processor reeling as he tried to process it. Grimlock was no tracker. Frostbite on the other hand was an expert. His sense of smell was far better than his, his systems designed from the moment he emerged from the Well for tasks like this. That was his main function. He was a hunter and a tracker. Grimlock was a fighter like all Dinobots. In a brawl over territory or resources there was little need for sniffing out the enemy – normally because they were already in your face and pounding you at that point. Dinobots...they weren't the best when it came to stealth. They just weren't built for it. Brawls? They were darned good at brawls. Predacons were a lot more – oh, what was the word?

 _Formal_.

Yeah. That was it. _Formal_.

" _Maiow?_ "

Tumbler stopped at the top level of the isle. She looked out across the expanse of classic and collector's vehicles with her big hazel eyes. Her tail flicked around abruptly. She looked confused. Grimlock glanced around, equally confused. There was no tell-tale black, curved-wing jet anywhere in sight. Maybe Sen was cloaked? Why else would Tumbler stop here? There was no food bowl lying here for her, no water dish, no humans or 'bots to play with. Well, 'side from them of course. But she seemed to understand they were helping her track the Seeker.

" _Maiow?_ "

It sounded like she was asking a question in her own language. Her head tilted to the side. Her tail swished.

" _Maiow?_ "

The Dinobot looked down at the White Hound. He was watching the little cat with a curious expression. "You think...?"

[Calling.] Frostbite affirmed. [Waiting for an answer. Any kind. Canipids do it a lot. Means she must think Sentenza is here now or very recently. Her scent here is strong. Good indicator.]

"Why doesn't Sen come out then? She knows we aren't gonna yell at her or nothing."

Frostbite looked up at him. Grimlock was startled by his grim expression.

[No. She doesn't know that. Knows her other half took control and forced her to end at least five lives on that wreck. Knows she is surrounded by mechs and femmes of solid morality. Knows everyone saw her fuel-stained frame and knows everyone will know what that means. Knows she attacked and near killed a convict of the Alchemor. That's it. That's all the Seeker knows for certain. That's enough reason to force herself into social exile.]

The Dinobot blinked. "But...she saved Strongarm! And helped save Drift and the minis! She bought all them enough to get off the wreck!"

Grimlock lifted his gaze back to the auto section. It looked less like a collection and more like a graveyard to him now – a graveyard turned into a prison. It made a certain dark sense now for Sen'za to surround herself with un-living machines she couldn't harm, that wouldn't be afraid of her. Here at least was another place she could feel safe, even if her reasons behind it could use some serious editing. He gave another gruff sniff of the air. Nope. Still there. And Tumbler sure thought so, too. Cat hadn't moved from her spot. Didn't look like she would any time soon, either. He made to step forward to begin searching...

[No.]

He glanced down sharply at Frostbite, dumbstruck.

"Why not? We need to find her and make sure she's okay!"

Frostbite's expression hardened until it looked like his optics really were made of ice. The wolf directed his gaze to the rows of old but well-kept vehicles. Grimlock saw his optics soften, his audials pin back. His maw opened and he let out a soft musical howl out of range of hearing of the humans. Then he turned around and headed back the way he came. Grimlock confusedly whipped his helm between the wolf and the auto section, jaw open in disbelief. Frostbite was just giving up? Just like that? This was the guy who basically had no real reason to defend Iacon or her people and he did it any way!

"But..."

His argument died feebly in his vocalizer on noting the wolf's expression. It was stern but there was compassion there, too.

[Leave her, _jlaltoka_. She will not emerge. Not around us. The feline will watch her.]

The wolf peered up to share a quizzical whine with Tumbler. The little calico seemed to understand perfectly, mewling and giving one of her odd slow blinks. Unless they were both imagining things it appeared as if she nodded at them. Tumbler then gracefully leapt off the top shelf and trotted into the rows and rows of vehicles. Every few seconds she would mewl. The cat then disappeared down one of the rows, slipping beneath an old pick-up truck. The two beast-formers lost sight of her after that. They could barely even hear her tiny padded paws hitting the ground. All they could hear was her persistent mewling.

Grimlock didn't like it. Maybe Tumbler would have a better chance of getting close and helping her than any of them did, though. Frostbite sure thought she might. And he trusted him as the better analyzer of the two of them. He had a feeling he was right. The idea of leaving Sen'za's safety in the hands of a small, furry Earth creature that couldn't speak was completely crazy to him – but it was just crazy enough that it might work. She might be just what the Seeker needed right now.

* * *

Sentenza overheard most of the conversation between the two mechs. Situated as she was against one of the walls, tucked between two large freighter trucks in near pristine condition, it had been hard not to. Grimlock's voice was loud and bombastic, and it was easy enough to read between the lines and interpret what the White Hound had possibly told him. She was too afraid to use the common frequency Frostbite employed. It would be sparkling's play for Windstorm and Fix-It to track the signal her comm. link emitted.

She was relieved when the two left, but another part of her screamed at her to get up and run after them, beg their forgiveness. Not just for avoiding them but for forcing them to see the ugly aftermath of the Demon the astrosecond she'd stepped out of that groundbridge. They were innocent, all of them. They did not deserve to be exposed to Her darkness. And so she kept a distance from them, even from Counterforce and Sideswipe – and Charity, too. She didn't have the spark to push them completely away, though. She knew they meant well. If they did manage to stumble across her or find her through purposeful accident she would let them in a little closer. But once they were done comforting her or enticing her into keeping her fuel reserves up or humming a little song to her she would leave to find another hiding spot.

The Seeker had been kidding herself this whole time. She couldn't be around anyone here. It was too dangerous. On Cybertron the Demon was a shadowy crook-hunter, feared yet respected by criminal and law officer alike. Here – here She was just a monster. No impulse control, no morals, no conscience – no spark. The Demon had attacked and killed with even less mercy than She normally possessed on Cybertron. She'd killed before even finding their motivations. Something inside had just... _reacted._

Her yellow optics dulled. A few sweet-smelling tears trickled out. Her helm bowed down to rest on her knee pikes. She wept in silence.

" _Maiow._ " came the familiar noise. " _Maiow! Mrrow?_ "

The Seeker forced herself to lift her helm back up. Padding through the isles, tail up and hazel eyes wandering around, was Tumbler. Her cloaking field flickered as her concentration faltered. The cat stiffed, looking at the black and red mirage across from it. One paw lifted. She looked ready to bolt. Suddenly desperate, Sentenza reached out for the calico. Startled, Tumbler fled. Her expression spasmed. Her helm dropped onto her knee pikes again. There was a hot sting in the corners of her optics but no tears came out. Her ducts were dry after nearly three straight solar cycles of them.

' _Great._ ' she thought dejectedly. ' _Even the cat's scared of me..._ '

Her optics shuttered, only to re-open even duller than before. Her spark twinged in its chamber. She glanced down at the black rod on her hip. She detached it and examined it. It'd be easy to remove the Demon permanently with it. She knew enough about killing others to know how to end a life quickly. One quick, deep slice to the _a'lik tmeo_ line...

Unconsciously the black bar moved up towards her chestplates, following her line of thought. Easy. Very easy. If this was what it took to keep the others safe and be free of the monster inside for good...

She glanced down sharply on feeling a soft vibration on her trod. Tumbler was there as if by magic, purring and rubbing up against her perpetually cold mesh. The warm fur and her strange vocalizations broke the spell. The black bar dropped from her hand with a soft clatter. Tumbler did not flinch at the sound. Sentenza gently scooped the little creature into her hands and brought her close to her faceplates. Tumbler's purring only grew louder as she brushed up against her. The cat did not pause her affections for a good breem, and when she did she her enormous hazel eyes locked with her own yellow optics. There was something in them the Seeker simply couldn't place.

" _Mew._ " Tumbler said. It was a quiet little mewl, more of a squeak really, but it brimmed with warmth.

And she bonked her head against her silver faceplates, purring loudly. Then she went back to her affectionate brushing.

Sentenza managed a short, crying laugh. A smile broke out on her lip-plates. She shuttered her optics and simply drank in the tactile and audial information the cat put out. She could feel Tumbler's little double-tap heartbeat, feel her fur that was softer than anything she'd felt, feel her nuzzling, hear her purring and breathing. Something about it washed all dark thoughts from her processor. All she cared about was the little delicate life in her hands, blindly trusting her when she felt such trust was undeserved.

" _Thank you..._ " she whispered.

The calico cat just kept on purring. She didn't need to speak her odd language to know she was saying " _You're welcome._ "

* * *

Peeking around from behind another isle of cars, Grimlock and Sideswipe observed the Seeker interact with the cat. Sentenza seemed unaware of them. Her attention was elsewhere.

The red mech's normally carefree, teasing attitude had undergone a rapid reversion to pain on seeing her. Her optics had been so dull, and thanks to her coolant ducks being dry as rust she hadn't even been able to cry when Tumbler had darted off, spooked at her sudden re-appearance. They'd very nearly run forward on spotting her grab her scythe and bring it up towards either her spark chamber or her neck cables. Either meant death. But then Tumbler had re-appeared, and the weapon had dropped to the ground. Sentenza had actually managed a laugh and a smile. Even from their distance they could hear the cat's purring like thunder rumbling over the land.

* _That cat needs a slagging chevron._ * Sideswipe said. His blue optics were round and his mouth hung open slightly. * _Somebody make it happen._ *

Grimlock managed a toothy grin. He told him a chevron'd probably crush the poor cat flatter than a piece of cesium salami, but if Denny got her a collar they could totally give her a medal to put on it. Windstorm and Backdraft could tinker together a little chevron to attach to it like a badge. Tumbler slagging deserved a medal, no doubt about it. In his opinion she deserved ten of them. Because whether that fuzzy feline was aware of it or not she'd probably just saved the Seeker's life.

* _Come on. Let's head back before they see us. I think she's good now._ *

They turned to leave, stepping quietly. Both mechs looked back to see Sentenza was now holding the calico in her arms. She looked happier now, more relaxed. Sideswipe smiled.

* * *

 **Author's Note: There are actual studies out there that show contact with an animal, especially a dog or cat, does help fight depression. I speak from experience on that. I don't suffer depression as much as anxiety, so whenever I have an attack at the house my parents help guide my dog Loki to wherever I am and he'll just freaking sit there and drink my tears away. He's weird like that. But goddamn does it** _ **work**_ **. I'm sitting there crying from anxiety one second and then laughing a little on feeling him lick my face. My mom jokes that he likes the taste because of all the salt. xD**

 **I get the feeling the same sort of concept might apply to a Cybertronian. A race like that might very well have pets but they'd either be other aliens (a la Foxbear's "Deja Vu" story) or native "animals" like turbo-foxes, rust hounds, or cyber-cats. Due to their tactile nets being so sensitive and everything around them on their planet being made of metal I would expect a tiny, soft little ball of fur like Tumbler would be even more effective because they're far more delicate.**


	5. Chapter 5: Badge of Honor

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut**

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Also inspired by the cute art piece by Evelynism: "Grim x Kitty."_

 _And I know, I know_ – _Tumbler is not a calico. But I think calicoes are adorable. Heck, if I had my way Tumbler would be a Russian Blue or an Abyssinian. xD_

 _I've also decided Windstorm's voice actor might be a young Geoffrey Garrant_ – _the guy who plays Skimbleshanks in the Cats! movie musical. Something about his voice just resonated with me and I could just see him voicing my eccentric star-ship engineer. :) He's got a British Isles accent, but it's not a truly "posh" accent, and I've always imagined him as "rolling" his R's a little bit. I like to think it's a mix between Garrant's accent and a slight Ulster English accent, sort of like how Gopher's is a mix between British (not sure what variety) and Norwegian._

 _*This and the former chapter takes place during the 3-day lull after "In Too Deep"_

* * *

"So can you?"

Grimlock and Sideswipe stood in front of Windstorm like begging sparklings. The engineer seemed a little aback by their sudden request they both had just given him, but they were encouraged that he didn't seem opposed to the idea. He seemed more intrigued by it. A finger rubbed his chin.

"Make a chevron badge for Tumbler?" Windstorm repeated. "Might I ask the reason for this request?"

They explained what had happened in the auto section that they alone had witnessed. Windstorm's optics widened. A smile split his faceplates as his optics twinkled with an informal kindness neither of them had seen so far. He looked over at the feline in question who was perched on a shelf and watching him with her big hazel green eyes. She acted as if she was fascinated by the idea herself. Her eyes were round and her whole body language indicated she was listening intently to what they were saying. The feline _did_ behave on more than one occasion like she could understand the basics of the English language, or at the least could understand tone of voice. Many things could be gleaned just going by an individual's tone, and felines were purported as being highly intelligent.

"Well? What do you think, Tumbler?" he inquired. "Would you like an accessory for that collar of yours?"

" _Mrrow?_ "

The cat's head tilted to the side. Sideswipe and Grimlock were even more astonished to hear the formal Crystal City mech chuckle.

"Meow for no, purr for yes."

A loud, thundering purr met their audials. Grimlock burst out laughing while Sideswipe stared like a deer in headlights.

"The cat..." the red mech said in shock.

Windstorm continued politely as if he were talking to a lady and not a small fuzzy creature: "Would you like to pick out the metal I'll be creating it from?"

Tumbler let out a mew and hopped off her perch. The engineer strode over to the neatly organized piles of scrap metal, motioning to the smallest one where the lightest and thinnest pieces lay. The cat looked up at him as if asking a question. Windstorm seemed to understand, still smiling that friendly smile of his that neither of them had laid optics on before.

"Just paw at the piece you like best. I think if you're going to be wearing it from now on you had best pick what _you_ like the most."

The cat began sniffing around at the scrap metal pile. Every once in a while she would reach out with her tiny paws and bat at a piece, prompting Windstorm to take it and lay it aside. Soon enough there was a nice little line up of scrap metal pieces the cat had acted interested in. Tumbler then inspected each of these in turn as carefully as a critic. The ones her nose turned up at were removed from the line up. Some were sniffed at and thus remained. At last, she chose one piece in particular and began happily batting at it, pupils enlarged to where they nearly engulfed her eyes. The engineer plucked it off the ground, earning an upset sounding mewl which earned an apology and a pat on the head.

"Excellent choice." Windstorm told her as he examined it. "Light but sturdy. Molecular structure indicates it should respond well to manipulation."

" _Mrrow?_ " wondered Tumbler.

"I can mold and shape it with ease." he clarified. "Would you like your name engraved into it as well?"

Tumbler's ears pricked up and her eyes sparkled. " _Mew! Maiow!_ " She trotted over and rubbed up against his heel strut happily.

Windstorm chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

His gaze turned to the two mechs: "Now if you'll excuse me for a short time, the medal will be ready within a local hour or so."

The engineer stored the piece of metal the cat had chosen and walked off. Tumbler followed after him, mewling in protest. Windstorm took notice and scooped the feline up into his palm, keeping his digits up to ensure she didn't attempt to jump. He gave her a little stroke on the head with one digit. She seemed contented that she was now on the same path as her chosen piece of metal.

* * *

Windstorm made his way back towards Charity's medical bay where it was generally quiet and distraction free, the little feline in his hand ever watching her surroundings but not seeming in the least nervous about being high off the ground or in the hands of a giant metal creature that could crush her just by folding up his hand. She'd seemed skittish at the very start of her relationship with he and his Cybertronian compatriots, but once Denny and Russell had offered her some food and some attention she'd warmed up in an astrosecond, perfectly at ease around them.

Food was, according to xenobiologists, a good motivator for carbon-based life forms to learn something. They weren't as energy efficient as his kind were.

"But we haven't fed you..." he realized. "We've only given attention. So why are you so relaxed around us...?"

Tumbler looked at him as if not quite understanding what he was asking. Her ear flicked as a light breeze swept by. He still found Sideswipe's tale of rescue incredible: she had come up on a heavily depressed Sentenza in the automotive sections, apparently in the midst of debating self-termination, and had nuzzled her as if the Seeker were another of her kind. She had acted _aware_ of her emotional turmoil and had acted in a purposeful, designed manner to reverse it. It was extraordinary to think a little creature like this had saved a femme from potential suicide. He recalled another instance: Tumbler coming to him as he tried to power down to escape his splitting migraine, mewling half-way up his leg as if asking whether or not she could go further. She had also responded earlier to his questions. But Tumbler wasn't sentient. There was a difference between sentience and intelligence – a creature could show intelligence and the ability to learn, but that didn't make it self-aware. So why was she behaving as if she displayed at least partial sentience?

The engineer let the cat jump onto the upper portion of the empty medical berth, hemming to himself as he looked her over. The data points weren't adding up. There were inconsistencies between scientific reports and studies from both planets and Tumbler's behavior.

"You are quite the little error message, aren't you?" he mused softly, rubbing the cat's chin with a single digit. "I hope you realize we engineers hate discrepancies. They drive us mad, you know. If something doesn't fit nicely in line with our equations and formulas, we assume something is wrong."

" _Maiow._ " said Tumbler, blinking slowly at him.

An insect buzzed by and she playfully swatted at it. He smiled. That was more in line with the genuine behavior of a young domestic cat.

He let her be and quickly rummaged through Charity's medical kit (cursing himself silently for not bringing his own kit of tools) until he found a laser scalpel. It wasn't the ideal tool to work with but it would stand in place of a photon carver well enough he supposed. He showed the scalpel to Tumbler who sniffed it and then pulled away.

"Now, I need you to stay where you are. Can you do that for me? I'd rather this not slice one of your limbs off if you get a little too curious."

Tumbler gave no vocal response but lay down on her flat surface, paws tucking under her chest like that would keep the potentially offending limbs trapped in place. She watched him as if waiting for further instruction.

He smiled: "You certainly know how to obey commands."

Satisfied she would maintain a safe distance, he brought out the piece of metal, set it down, and switched on the laser scalpel. He cast the feline a glance but other than her ears pointing back and her pupils thinning she made no indication of jumping forward. Tumbler seemed more alarmed by it than interested. Hmm. Most Earth animals were reported to be fascinated by light sources. Ah well. It worked in his favor.

And so, with a hand as steady as a professional artist, Windstorm began to carve out the classic V-shaped chevron. Once the badge was carved out he let it sit for roughly ten minutes until it had cooled and hardened. The little feline's name began to take shape on the metal in flowing – and quite appropriate – Cataneo script soon after. A quick jaunt onto the local net had revealed common fonts for awards and medals, Cataneo among them. Considering what she was he'd found that a suiting font to employ on her chevron badge. Little by little as the minutes ticked by her name began to take shape. First a "T", then a "u" and an "m" and a "b." He paused between each one to blow some cooled air onto the hot metal, waving a hand to disperse the vapors.

He heard the gate rumble open, and Tumbler's head jerked in its general direction. He looked up himself and towards the commons where a quick commotion was taking place. From the sounds of the bike brake clanking into its park position, young Henrietta was paying a visit. He really did quite like her. Pleasant young lady. Her questions about his species had revealed a sharp intellect with a particular emphasis on automotive subjects. An interesting twist, potentially of great value.

He returned to his carving with a slight shake of his helm. An elegant "l" soon formed. An "e" was sweepingly carved. Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of tedious, careful carving, Tumbler's name was at last emblazoned onto the badge with a concluding "r". The last few letters shone red-hot briefly as the metal cooled to room temperature. He gusted out a satisfied sigh. He blew on it a few times to further cool it, then gingerly plucked it up and held it for Tumbler to see.

"There you go. What do you think? Not bad for a star-ship engineer, eh?"

" _Maiow!_ " said Tumbler. A loud rumbling purr wafted over his audials.

He tapped a digit on his chin, murmuring: "Now I just need a small strip of wire for the pin..."

He looked around. His lightning yellow gaze alighted on an old racing bicycle nearby. The brakes for the human-powered vehicle were comprised of a complex series of rubber-covered cables that held a thin strip of wire, the wire visible as it intercepted the front and rear end caps. He recalled that Mr. Clay did not intend these items for resale and collected them simply because he enjoyed doing so. Surely he wouldn't miss a little section of the wiring...? It wasn't like anyone would be riding it under those specifications at any rate.

Right?

Shrugging, the engineer made his way over to the bicycle and knelt down, using the laser scalpel to carve through the brake lines and reveal the thin bit of wire within. Realizing his digits were too thick to easily grasp it, he returned to the medical kit and acquired a fair of forceps. Now that he possessed a fine-tuned means of extracting and manipulating the wire, he was able to pull it out with ease. Once he had the needed length, he cut the wire again and threaded the rest back in. Hopefully Mr. Clay wouldn't throw _too_ much of a fit. It was for a good cause.

"I don't think Mr. Clay would be too pleased to find his collection tampered with."

He turned to find Strongarm, her bulky arms crossed.

"Oh, tish tosh." he argued lightly as he teased the wire into the shape he wanted. "It's hardly even noticeable. And if it does become a problem, I could scrounge around for some replacement wiring. There was some in the pile Chop Shop thoughtfully provided, I believe."

"Then why not just take that?"

"Frankly, I'd rather this be a surprise for everyone, Sentenza, Mr. Clay, and Russell especially. If I can repair a star-ship I do think I can repair a motor-less two-wheeler's missing brakes. It would be sparkling's play at worst."

Strongarm seemed satisfied with his answer. She stepped forward to see what he was working on, giving Tumbler a stroke on her head.

"What are you even doing with that wire?"

"Ask Sideswipe or Grimlock for the details. For now, suffice it to say that young Tumbler has earned her stripes."

He flipped the badge over to show her. It was still on the dull side and not quite perfectly smoothed on the edges, but he was pleased overall with what he'd made. A buffer and some metal polish would straighten those problems out. He considered it a nice little diversion from general engineering. Strongarm seemed pleased with the end result herself, smiling a little at the badge despite it not being quite done yet. He handed it to her for inspection, and she returned it after a moment.

"Do you need anything else to finish it?" she wondered. "Or are you done?"

"Just a touch of metal polish and a buffer – some means of smoothing the edges." he answered. "I expect Mr. Clay has some polish somewhere in here, and I do believe Sideswipe brought a buffer with him. Or was it the other way around? Either way, I'm certain neither would mind parting with it for a good cause. Sideswipe was the one who commissioned me to create this badge, after all."

Strongarm's expression showed surprise. "Wow. He actually wanted to do something for someone else? Are we one hundred percent positive a Shifter hasn't gone and replaced him?"

Windstorm actually managed a chuckle at that. These two would never see optic-to-optic. One was impulse oriented, the other was strictly rule-abiding. He viewed himself personally as somewhere right in the middle but with leanings to either side depending on circumstance.

"He's doing it as a means of thanking Tumbler for saving Sentenza's life. Understandable since she considers him a friend at this point in time."

The cadet's optics widened.

"What? When did this happen?"

"As I said, seek out Sideswipe or Grimlock if you want the full story. If you'll excuse me for a moment, cadet, I do need to look around for what I need. Would you be so kind as to keep an optic on Tumbler for a short time? I will not be long."

Strongarm, a little bewildered, found herself nodding unconsciously. It was hard to be annoyed with him when he possessed such an eloquent vocabulary, and it was even harder to feel any disliking towards him because of it. The mech was intelligent. How could any sane 'bot despise him for having a good processor in his helm and a polite manner? So she simply stood there for a moment as he walked off. She blinked once he disappeared and the spell he'd cast snapped. The cadet turned her attention to the cat on the medical berth, happily curled up with her paws tucked beneath her chest, her hazel green eyes watching her with surprising focus. She blinked one of her strange, slow blinks, and Strongarm could faintly hear the sound of her purring. Strongarm was admittedly confused by what her behavior translated to, and her helm cocked a few degrees to the side.

"Do you...want something?" she hazarded.

" _Maiow?_ " said Tumbler, her own head tilting to the side. She looked confused.

"...I am talking to a cat." Strongarm realized. "I am actually talking to a cat. There's no protocol for this...Well, there is for Felioids, but you're not a Felioid. Why am I still talking?"

She swore Tumbler's purring then sounded all too much like laughter, and with the way her mouth was curled up at the tips it made it look as if she were smiling at her in an elfish way. Strongarm turned away, still confused and now slightly nettled, but kept watch on her out of her peripheral vision as Windstorm had politely requested. What in the name of the Primes was going on with this cat? Felines were not supposed to be this... _human._ Tumbler's purring only grew louder.

The cadet was relieved when Windstorm returned after a mere few minutes, having found the needed polish and buffer. There was a smile on his lip-plates that warned he'd seen her with her back partially turned at the cat on the berth and the slight frown on her own lip-plates.

"Come now, Tumbler. No need to flummox the cadet to amuse yourself." he scolded lightly. "Your badge is nearly done. Please be patient for another breem or so."

" _Mrrow._ "

Strongarm firmly believed she saw the cat's impish smile broaden as she looked at her directly. She was pretty sure this cat needed someone to give it a closer look. Something about it was...odd, right up there with Counterforce's odd glowing optics and switches in personality. Not even Charity, when she'd told her about what had happened on the wreck, had been able to explain it satisfactorily. Her best guess was a much, much weaker form of dissosciative identity disorder and, just like Sentenza's optics swapped color, Counterforce's brightened depending on what personality was in control; gold was obviously a benign, intelligent, though distinctly cryptic personality. Silver remained unknown. But even she admitted that diagnosis was only a guess, and many of the symptoms associated with the disorder were absent in his case.

Curiously, the medic seemed to have had another suspicion in her optics but had not voiced it. She honestly wondered what had been on her mind at that point. She'd suspected something else, obviously. But what?

She pushed her thoughts to the side burner and observed Windstorm meticulously dull down the sharp edges of the badge with hands so steady they might as well have been glued in place. That he was able to manipulate something so small, so delicate with his hands – it made her wonder why he hadn't chosen the artist's profession. She'd definitely seen a bit of the artist's touch when he'd drawn out the strange Corrupticon crest. Perhaps the explanation lay in his years of star-ship engineering and repair: star-ships possessed some very fine, very small parts to their make-up, and Windstorm might not have a mini-con partner available to assist him in the task. He'd adapted, learnt to make do without the fine-tuned, smaller hands of a mini-con.

' _Adaptable._ ' she thought.

After a breem or so he switched off the buffer and traded it out for the polish and a small piece of cloth he'd had someone wrap around one of his digits. Back and forth and around the cloth went on the tiny surface. Within only a few minutes it shimmered like silver. A smile broke out on the engineer's face.

"There we go. What do you think now?" he asked the cat.

" _Maiow!_ " answered Tumbler.

Windstorm's smile broadened.

"I'll have to have someone else attach it. My hands are a sight too large to manipulate the pin mechanism, even if I were to use the forceps. I'm certain Tumbler can wait until we have a human available for that delicate task, yes? Come on. Let's get you down from there so you're no longer trapped."

He held his hands out. Tumbler gave a rapid blink, mewled, and hopped off the medical berth and into his open palms. He knelt down and her jump onto solid ground. She brushed up against him in what he assumed was thanks, judging by her loud purrs.

With that, Tumbler trotted off to do whatever it was cats did in between begging for food or attention.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow. And here I was thinking I'd have loads of time to write. Nope! First we get new carpet installed in the back 3 rooms, meaning we had to basically empty them of stuff, and then put said stuff back in. Now my mother is freaking out and having us pretty up the house since we have my half-brother and his wife coming over for the holidays. And we still have to decorate our tree.**

 **I:**

 **On top of that, I found out the two gifts I got my sister won't be here till after the New Year. So yeah. Woo. .-.**


	6. Chapter 6: Kitty Cat Cuddles

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot Series: Stray Cat Strut**

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Also inspired by the cute art piece by Evelynism: "Grim x Kitty."_

 _Real short one this time. Glimpse. Someone wanted me to do one with Zodiac, so...I have obliged. ;) Takes place in the evening after Groundpounder's episode._

* * *

Perched on the high wall that protected the salvage yard, Zodiac calmly read through a downloaded encyclopedia of animals native to the west coast of this continent, bored and tired. She missed home, she missed Lattice, she missed her crew, and most of all she missed her flock. Normally on planet-hopping missions she could give them a ring over the ship's advanced FTL comm. relays but her ship was light years upon light years away on Cybertron. The ship that was here, the Alchemor, was a mangled wreck, most of its systems broken or malfunctioning. Windstorm was working on it but interstellar communications were a tad harder to get working than interpersonal ones.

She liked a dose of adventure every now and again but this was a little much in her mind. No means of contacting home, surrounded by dangerous convicts – well, one of them was technically on their side but still. Putting faith in a con-mech thief team was never a good idea. They made their living off lies and stealing.

She wanted to go home.

"Hey. You okay over here?"

She turned to see Counterforce of all mechs come up to her.

"I miss home." she admitted as her voice cracked.

His curious expression softened.

"I know. But it's not _that_ bad here, is it?"

"No, no." she argued with a wry laugh. "I like it here. All the colors. And the wildlife. The Artist would get so much inspiration from just this area. It's hard to believe the Chaos-Bringer is right beneath us."

He smiled. "Yeah. It's kind of ironic a place like this exists because of an evil cosmic force. You'd expect it to be a barren wasteland."

They fell silent. Zodiac's gaze lifted up to the skies where the stars twinkled and softly sang above. She lay down on her backstrut and let one leg dangle over the edge. The other remained arced in an angle. She still bore many of the scuffs from her fight that day but she was in a better condition than her fellow beast who was at present in Charity's med-bay under her careful watch.

"I thought I'd be able to feel him." she said. "I can't. Not even a hint. I guess I'd have to be a dream-walker like Oratorio. Their sensitivity's greater. Frostbite's been acting funny lately. You noticed? He can sense something out there. I can see it in his optics. It's making him jumpy." Her optics rolled and snorted. "Heh. Welcome to _my_ life."

The Praxian nodded. He'd noticed that, too. But Frostbite wasn't a dream-walker or a sensorium as far as he knew. He hadn't displayed any of the signs. However, he doubted it was the convicts running loose that was causing his jumpiness. As a rescuer and a hunter-scout he had to maintain his cool in potentially lethal situations or else he'd make the situation worse for all involved. But if not the convicts...then what _was_ making the wolf so increasingly jumpy? Unicron? Something else entirely? Could he in fact sense something that everyone else was oblivious to? Knockout's reports said Predacons were far more receptive to their surroundings and mystical energies than a regular 'bot – something to do with their relation to old Onyx and his Mask was his professional guess. Predacons _were_ based off the Beast Prime's frame as the old legends said. Perhaps that relation wasn't just mesh-deep.

"Think if we asked him he'd be able to tell?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "Not sure. I know thanks to Tarot that you can _feel_ something but have no idea where it's coming from, the same way I can be nervous and not know what the flip I'm nervous about. That may be the case with Frostbite – he can sense _something_ but he doesn't know what it is. That might be why he hasn't spoken up."

"Makes sense. By the way – you didn't do half bad out in the ring today. I saw you on screen. You were very brave."

"You kidding? I was fracking terrified the whole time. I was lucky I didn't lock up and fall to the ground and get smooshed."

They fell silent again. Zodiac's field emitted a few glyphs for exhaustion and isolation. She transformed and flew over to one of the old trucks nearby and settled into its cargo bed, the officer noting some blankets and towels had been neatly arranged within in a ring like a nest. He didn't resist the smile at the sight. Looked like she'd taken some pointers from the birds here. It was a bit chilly out tonight thanks to that cold front that had passed through earlier in the evening, and smaller 'bots didn't retain heat as well as their larger cousins.

Counterforce took the hint.

"If you need anything just ping me or the others, okay?" he offered. "We're here for you."

The metal hawk twittered at him and curled up. One wing folded over her helm. After a moment, her beak slipped out, grabbed the end of one of the towels, and draped it over herself. He laughed a little to himself and left her. Even a speed-gifted needed a pit stop every now and again, especially after that brawl in the Thunderdome. Power down gave a 'bot's nanites a chance to work unhindered.

His comm. link pinged as he went away: * _She's good?_ *

* _She's good. Not as rattled as you expected she'd be. Didn't even talk about the fight until I told her how good she'd done._ *

A relieved sigh came from the other end.

* _Thanks CF. I'll check on her in a bit when I get back_. _After a stressful solar cycle she tends have to trouble powering down._ *

* _Good deal. I'll see how Frosty's doing in the meantime._ *

* * *

Charity looked up when Counterforce tapped one of the shelves and asked if he could come in. Frostbite's own helm lifted from where he lay curled on the ground, Fix-It tucked under his chin and between his paws as if the mini-con's presence would help somehow. He seemed happy where he was at any rate. Even as he watched the mini-con reached back and gave the wolf a scratch on his cheek, earning a pleased rumble and a thump of his heavy tail.

"Everything alright here?" he asked.

[Better.] Frostbite told him. [Still can't feel my forelimbs and chest. But better. Thank you.]

He looked down at Fix-It and gave him a lick, earning a little smile and a returned scratch. The Praxian smiled at the sight. For someone as physically mature as Frostbite appeared he certainly acted like an overgrown puppy at times. Not that he was complaining, of course. It was rather cute to see the chilly White Hound act like a happy Blue Moon pup. It was also good to see the mini-con more relaxed around him. Frostbite seemed to have a talent for frightening mini-cons. If only that had worked in the ring with Headlock.

"How is Zodiac?" Charity wondered.

"More or less fine. She's trying to get some shut eye in the beds of one of the trucks." he told her. "Even built a nest at some point while we weren't looking if you can believe it. Smokescreen's going to check on her in a bit when he returns and make sure she's not having any trouble powering down."

The medic smiled. "Good. If she has any trouble I've got some sedatives left. Or if she's against medication (I know some are) I could play for her instead."

He said that was thoughtful of her and thanked her. Giving Frostbite a pat on his helm and wishing him well Counterforce left the healer to her canine charge. He was half tempted to drive back out to the hospital where Denny was and join Drift, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee. He wanted to see how the man and his son were doing. It was a miracle he'd survived such a powerful electric shock to his body.

* * *

 _Later..._

Smokescreen pulled in as the gates rumbled open for him. Russell had thoughtfully kept him and his two vigil partners updated about his dad's condition and from the sounds of things the man was doing well. Right before he'd left a doctor had apparently come in, run some tests, and said he would be free to go home early tomorrow morning. His dad didn't want him staying on his own in the scrap yard without an adult present, giant well-armed robots aside. The boy had tried to tell him he could take care of himself but Denny had been firm: Russell was staying the night at the hospital.

On that announcement, Drift had been reluctant to leave them both in an unprotected medical facility but they'd reached a compromise: someone from the team would be stationed there overnight to act as an extra set of eyes. The bounty hunter and his mini-cons had volunteered, as had 'Bee. Four mechs seemed like overkill but they'd insisted.

He rolled to a stop in the commons and swapped forms. Not willing to converse over the bond and risk waking his potentially slumbering partner, he pinged Counterforce.

"CF? Where's 'Zee?"

* _In the auto section in one of the truck beds. Look for an old dark grey Ford pick-up, license plate 7AXG384. I believe that was the brand marker and plate number._ *

* _Thanks._ * Wow that guy had good memory for little details.

* _Any time._ *

He headed into the automotive section. It felt like Zodiac was in power down so he had high hopes. Heavy pedefalls and the purr of an engine made him turn to see Sideswipe and Grimlock go by down one of the other isles. What they were doing he had no idea but he'd prefer it if they didn't wake up Zodiac. He pinged them a warning to keep their distance. The Dinobot's thundering pedefalls grew quieter, but Sideswipe wasn't so willing to cooperate. He rolled his optics. Well, considering Zodiac had bit him he couldn't _really_ blame him. In her defense Predacons were defensive of their own kind, and Zodiac could often misinterpret playful teasing for actual teasing. Sideswipe was still understandably mad at her for that uncalled bite.

When he found the old Ford in question a smile broke out. He covered his mouth to hide the laugh that wanted to burst out.

At some point between his call and his arrival, Tumbler had found Zodiac in her cargo-bed-towel-nest and snuggled up underneath her wing like a stuffed animal. As plain as day he could hear the little feline purring quietly. Both girls were out cold if their respective pulses were anything to go by. When a cool breeze swept by the cat snuggled a little nearer, happy for the heat Zodiac was emitting even if it wasn't much.

[Charity?]

[Yes?]

The smile grew broader.

[...She's good. Tumbler's got her covered. She's cuddling 'Zee.]

Charity laughed softly. [I love that cat.]

Smokescreen crouched and carefully slipped a digit underneath the hawk-former's wing to give Tumbler a little rub on her cheek.

"Thanks, girl." he whispered.

Tumbler's purr rose in volume, then quieted. Her tail curled up against her side and her ear flicked. He almost panicked when Zodiac stirred a little but thankfully she didn't wake – all she did was tuck the cat a little closer with her folded wing. Tumbler didn't seem to mind.

An Avioid Predacon snuggling a tiny cat. Well _that_ certainly wasn't something you saw every day.


	7. Chapter 7: Getting a Leg Up

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Stray Cat Strut**

 ***** _Inspired by Maria Shadow's story "Two-Stroke" and Ravens-of-Morea's "The Kitten"! Thank you ladies for such lovely little stories!*_

 _*Also inspired by the cute art piece by Evelynism: "Grim x Kitty."_

 _Will be about a week or so after "Wounded Warrior" (Tumbler needs time to recover).  
_

* * *

She felt bad keeping a secret from her parents, but she didn't have much of a choice. If either of them found out she was hanging around giant metal people from space they would either ground her or send her to a mental institute. But the look on her dad's face when he'd seen Fix-It beneath the trench coat and fedora in the Thunderdome – he'd been surprised but not scared or worried – heck, Zodiac had surprised him more only because she'd moved like a real living thing and he'd gotten to see her up close and personal, see all the little details on her. She'd felt bad skirting around the answers he wanted. She hadn't really lied to him though, not the way some people lied. Being vague wasn't exactly lying. But when he'd put his hand to Windstorm's vehicle form he'd been curious. Confused. Confused at the strange Autobot insignia and confused at the mysterious heat coming from a supposed-to-be inactive car. _Would_ it be so bad to tell him at least? He was a mechanical engineer and a former mecha fighter. He worked around machines all the time.

 _Bzz bzz bzz_.

The active app on her phone was swapped out for the arriving call. The number it came from was...weird. Way longer than a typical phone number. No location. No name. She swiped to answer it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Look out the window, Hank."

Her eyes widened, "Mr. Clay?"

"Window."

She rose from the couch and darted to the front window that look out onto the street. Parked at the curb was a carmine red Lamborghini, polished to a shine, with its driver's side window down. In the driver's seat itself was Russell's dad, a smart phone to his cheek and looking her down with a wide grin, and naturally wearing one of his bright Hawaiian print shirts. She thought she saw a form in the back seat but she couldn't be sure through the heavy tinting. If anyone was there it had to be Russell; she wasn't sure Fix-It could fit in Sideswipe's vehicle disguise. The roof seemed too low for that to work unless the roof could be retracted somehow. Could Sideswipe do that? They were able to shift their plating around to transform, so could they control individual sections of –

" –home?

"Sorry. What?"

"Are your folks home?" the man repeated.

"My dad is," she clarified. "Mom's at the hospital."

"Could I come in and talk to him?"

"Sure. He's in the study."

Lowering the phone and ending the call, Mr. Clay got out of the car and strolled up the front walkway. She met him at the door. Up close, she noticed Mr. Clay looked tired. Stressed, too. When she asked what was wrong, the smile he gave seemed a little too forced and his answer a little too vague, but then he leaned in and whispered that he'd tell her once they were at his place. Satisfied, she motioned him in and darted ahead towards the study with a cry of "Dad!" where the former mecha fighter turned college professor was waiting for her, chair turned to face the open door. Two stacks of papers lay at the desk behind him, the laptop open to a news article about the Thunderdome investigation abruptly being called off. Ashley had sounded pretty annoyed when she'd texted her about that two days ago.

He adjusted his glasses, "Henri? Who was –"

His words cut off as Mr. Clay entered with a little knock and an embarrassed smile, "I'm not bothering you, am I? I know professors tend to be, y'know, busy."

"No, no, not at all," her dad insisted. "Grading papers was getting dull anyway. What're you doing here?"

"I'm kind of here to ask a favor of you, doc."

The glasses were removed and eyes behind them focused on him, "Really? What kind of favor?"

Mr. Clay winced once before telling a heart-breaking story. The little cat she'd seen during her last visit had had her leg severed after deciding to nap in an old wood chipper, and Mr. Clay had turned it on without thinking to check for her. That definitely explained his guilty expression and the wince. She was okay though, he assured them both, but because he wasn't exactly rolling in money he couldn't commission a commercial prosthetic manufacturer, and with the poor cat having trouble getting around on three legs she was in need of one. He knew a bit about the field of engineering, and he had a tinker friend helping, Winston (she had a pretty good idea who that was), but he didn't have a doctorate in mechanical engineering, and poor Winston, though more experienced, was having some trouble since this wasn't something he typically did. He was perfectly capable of doing it, he said, he just needed some professional guidance to get it done – and a smaller set of hands, he joked. He was a pretty big guy; more accustomed to working on bigger scale projects like cars and planes than replacement limbs for tiny cats.

She had to smile at that. Technically speaking that was sort of the truth. Windstorm's giant hands would have some trouble working on something so small. Making a collar and badge for her out of scrap metal was a lot different than building an entire limb from scratch.

"I'd be happy to help. It's the least I can do for you helping out Ashley with that souped up punk in the Thunderdome. And, well, I'll be honest – I've been wanting to get a closer look at that mecha of yours. Fine piece of work, that."

"Oh, you will," Mr. Clay winked. "Trust me. If you've got an hour or so to spare I can give you a lift over."

Her dad rose from the chair and motioned him ahead.

"I can come too, right?" she asked.

Both adults motions her ahead with a smile, and she ran ahead, out the door, and almost flung herself into the backseat. No one was there. A strand of hair invaded her vision and was quickly huffed away.

"Somebody's excited," joked the car.

She hushed him quick, "Shh! My dad's coming! And whatever you do, _don't_ try anything funny on the way there."

"Aw, come on. Not even a _little_ scare?"

"No."

"C'mon, please? The haunted car gig is so much fun!"

"No."

"Primes, you're as bad as Strongarm..."

She stuck her tongue out triumphantly in time for both front doors to open, one after the other. One last warning glare was given to the steering wheel as Sideswipe began the trek back to the salvage yard, her dad completely and totally oblivious that he was riding inside an alien, shape-shifting robot who was really nothing more than a giant rebellious teenager with a jerk sense of humor some days. Maybe that was for the best, she thought. Her dad dealt with enough upstart college people as it was. He deserved a break from that when dealing with alien machine people. Her eyes strayed out of the window to watch the streets and houses pass by as the grown-up engaged in idle talk. Her dad kept trying to weasel more information out of Mr. Clay, but he was being enigmatic and vague in his answers. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was aiming to surprise him. She seriously had to wonder how he'd take it. Her dad was pretty open-minded, but these were aliens he was about to meet, not just robots. Alien robo-people who could change into animals and cars. That had been mind-blowing enough for her, so how would someone who'd made mechanical engineering and robots his career react? Have a heart attack? Faint? Both?

Within half an hour the houses were gradually replaced by wooded hills. She thought she caught a flash of white out in the forest that gleamed when it passed under a break in the leaves. When she saw it flash again she was sure: Frostbite was following them from cover. He wasn't taking any chances it seemed.

* * *

"I have to hand it to you," he said as the gate grumbled open, "you really don't take any chances with security, do you?"

"I don't just collect antiques," Denny winked. "I have some clients who contract me out to keep an eye on certain valuables like sports cars or special custom rides during things like conventions. Almost no one comes out here."

He cocked an eyebrow at him, "So how does one of those clients feel about you using his wheels to get around?"

"What? This old thing?" the younger man joked. "The owner won't mind. In fact, they prefer if I give the car a weekly spin or two to make sure everything runs smooth. This Lambo can be a little on the twitchy side," the wheel jerked suddenly to the right, the custom blue lighting flashing once. Denny laughed, "Like that."

The car rolled forward on command into the open gates and came to a smooth stop in the same open area Henri had tended to the wolf mecha. Unsurprisingly, the mecha was nowhere to be seen now – probably stowed somewhere further in and under cover to protect it from the elements. But what was there was...odd. A wide semi-circle of vehicles of every size and shape. Two motorcycles: a custom Harley and an unusual rounded model that seemed to take inspiration from a BMW he had seen driving around town, but the thinness of it reminded him more of Apple's two-wheeled wonder from ten years ago. There was an an SUV, the same one as he'd seen before; two sports cars, a Lotus and a Chevy, were parked side by side. The Tesla from last time was there too, as was a beautiful Lexus colored dull gold with some sleek silver accents. Behind them all was a strange piece of machinery, obviously taken from something much larger, that reminded him a little of a desk in the way it looked.

"Uh..." he glanced sideways at the man. "Are they supposed to be sitting out here like that?"

"Yep,"

"But –"

"I had them out to give them a hose-down, left them out to do a little sun drying while I came to get you."

He blinked. They didn't look wet, and he didn't see a hose. He didn't see any indication that they had been cleaned other than their gleaming metal.

"Come on."

Denny exited the car. He followed. He barely had the chance to put a hand on the door before it shut on its own. Not as strange as the twitchy wheel, he supposed. Every brand of car had an automatic system in charge of their doors. He stared at it for a moment, trying to convince himself nothing was weird about the car, but that twitchy wheel at the gate said otherwise. That seemed like a glitch in an automatic driver program, but Denny hadn't acted worried despite the danger such a bug posed.

"So," he prompted as he glanced around, "where's the cat?"

"Right here, Mr. Green."

Russell rose from his cover on the sofa. Held in his arms, her rear and back legs supported by one arm and the torso and front paws held up by the other. It took his eyes a second to realize there was just one front paw, and one front leg, being supported. What was left of the damaged leg was nothing more than a rounded stump that peeped up from behind Russell's hand. A thin sheet of gauze protected the remaining stump, held in place by some strips of athletic bandages that wrapped around her torso. His heart broke. One hand went to his mouth to hide the pained the noise that started to well up from his chest. He came forward and gingerly took the little calico from Russell. She gave a short, soft mewl of protest but otherwise didn't struggle, happy instead to sniff and poke her wet nose into his hand. He could feel what was left of the leg try to move, but no movement came.

His heart only cracked further. He used his thumb to stroke the cat's chin, "You poor thing..."

And then he got down to business.

"Henri, can you get some photographs of the leg for me?"

His daughter nodded, pulled her smartphone out, and began taking photos. Her fluid movements around him that followed said to him that she was taking a video as well. Always one step ahead. That was his Henrietta.

"Okay. Done," she said after a moment. "I'll send these to your email."

"Please and thank you. Zip the video file if you have to; I know phone videos like to compress automatically and that'll ruin the quality."

Henri set to work, tapping and swiping at the screen. He handed the cat back to Russell. The little custom ID tag on the collar, unusually shaped like a V and attached like a pin, was joined by another circular dangle tag that confirmed her inoculations. He found himself eyeing the pin closely. That wasn't a standard sort of accessory sold at pet stores. It looked custom. But when the cat was placed back onto the sofa, he forced his gaze back to the other priority.

"You said you had a tinker friend helping out?" he asked. "Where is he?"

The sly look on the other man's face puzzled him, more so because it was directed first at his son, then towards the semi-circle of vehicles behind him. Russell gave his father a single thumb's up and a matching sly smile.

His eyes flicked back towards the cars and then back to the father and son, "What?" he demanded suspiciously.

Something bumped into him gently from behind then. He turned to find the Tesla had somehow moved itself out of the semi-circle and pulled up, front fender first, behind him. The strange face logo was there, staring back at him. He eyed the two in even more scrutiny. Self-driving cars weren't fantasy, but the programming behind them was fairly refined. Glitches like this, where the car turned itself around completely and went forward of its own accord – something funny was going on with that car, it and that red Lambo with the twitchy wheel.

"What if I were to tell you," Denny smiled, "that the 'tinker friend' is that Tesla behind you?"

"You mean 'is in' the Tesla?" he corrected him.

"Nope. Is."

He stared, "I would call you out of your mind."

"And what if I wasn't out of my mind?"

"Then I would say to prove it."

Denny's smile went positively ear-to-ear at that, "Well, then it's a good thing I can!"

"What?"

He heard soil shift under tires. Turning, he found the Tesla had backed away about ten feet or so. On its own. Weird noises came from it. Metal scraped on metal and pistons hammered down and gears clanked – so many unique internal noises came that it reminded him of a symphony tuning before a rehearsal. Discordant to hear, but also beautiful. His brain had trouble processing the bizarre and hypnotic movement of metal as the Tesla changed shape completely, all while retaining so many of its aspects. He watched as it rose higher, higher, higher, until it stood a good twenty feet tall. It wasn't a Tesla anymore – a giant metal humanoid shape loomed over him, watching him intently through bright pale yellow eyes. His jaw slackened.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Green," the giant said through a smile. "I trust you had a pleasant journey? No problems?"

Giving a startled, inarticulate cry, he stumbled back, almost tripped over his daughter, and was caught by Denny from behind, both arms neatly tucking under his arm pits.

Henri giggled, "It's okay, dad. This is 'Winston,' Mr. Clay's tinker friend. He's an engineer, just like you."

"Winston," he repeated in disbelief. That sounded oddly human for a giant metal being.

"I'm afraid that is a bit of a misnomer and pseudonym in one," the giant corrected while Denny got him back to his feet. "My real designation is Windstorm. Windstorm of Crystal City. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, professor."

"He's an alien," Russell added nonchalantly, grinning.

His eyes widened, still locked onto the giant, "Alien," he repeated.

"Alien. Extraterrestrial. Nonnative. Foreigner. All apply," said Windstorm. "This planet is not my world of origin, but I do admit it can be quite endearing at times."

He couldn't help smiling. He'd never imagined an alien being so formal and polite. The giant knelt and extended a single finger. It took him a second to process what he wanted. Extending a hand forward, he shook the digit like he would a full hand. Oddly warm for a metal being. Did they have some kind of body heat producer in them? What was the design idea behind that? When it came to machines, reducing heat was always the goal, not making it.

"So," Windstorm prompted, "shall we get down to business?"

"Sure, but don't we need the cat?"

Windstorm's lightning eyes twinkled, "Not in the least. Tumbler's physical presence is not necessary. Our resident medic has already complied a full scan of the patient for our uses. You'll find them quite thorough, I hope."

He knelt and held a hand out, palm first. Some of the palm retracted back to reveal a glowing device that emitted light. Soon, the light formed a shape: Tumbler's. Every few moments the ghostly cat would hobble forward on her three good legs, showing her weight was no longer being evenly distributed. He found himself staring at it, not totally believing the technological magic he was seeing. The child in him squealed in delight. His hands reached out.

His voice came out as a high-pitched, excited whisper, "You have holograms..."

The titan eyed him funny, as if having trouble understanding his excitement, "Of course. Hologram projectors are commonplace where I come from. I've made a few over my career. They're quite simple to craft, really."

His inner child was satisfied, "Let's get started then."

"Very well," Windstorm agreed. "Oh, I should warn you. I am not the only alien in the vicinity. There is no need for alarm should you spot them. They are allies of mine here and pose no threat. Denny Clay has been most generous is providing us a place to stay."

"Well, if these friends all as nice as you, why would I be scared?"

"Oh! Then I oughtta warn you!" Denny cried from over near the red Lambo. "If you see a metal hawk, a metal wolf, or a metal dinosaur roaming around, don't freak! They're aliens too! They're friendly! Just try not to scare the hawk if you catch her watching you! She likes to people watch, but she spooks easy!"

"What the he–your mechas are aliens too?!"

"Yup! Frostbite would be the wolf and Zodiac would be the hawk. The dino's name is Grimlock. Don't worry! He looks big and mean but he's harmless!"

This day, he decided, could not get any weirder. But he felt a little better knowing that an antique collector hadn't outclassed someone who had a doctorate's in mechanical engineering.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I know it's a little short, but gimme a break here guys. The Semeter's End Nightmare is ongoing. :P**


End file.
